Children of Metal
by PhoenixofMetal
Summary: For thirteen cyborg kids on the run from a dangerous organization called The Initiative, the world is a very dangerous place. But The Initiative is only the beginning of their problems. (Set between RotF and DotM. Mostly OC-centric with cannon characters.)
1. Chapter 1

**Edit: **Most of the stuff explaining this story can be found on my profile.

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warnings:** Violence and Language.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

* * *

><p>I throw open the tattered brown curtains covering the partially broken and duct taped window in my bedroom, allowing the first faint rays of morning light into my unlit bedroom. Another day has begun.<p>

I walk out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom, a black t-shirt, short denim overalls, and other essentials tucked under one arm. I'm up before the others so I can get my bath done before the others wake up and take over the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, toss my clothes on the counter and shimmy out of yesterday's clothes. I gingerly turn the cold and hot water on, hoping that Will's jury-rigged water supply and heating system will actually work. The water comes out perfectly warmed like it just came from a hot spring, and I quickly turn the shower on and hop in. I bathe quickly, trying to conserve hot water for the others and to lessen my chances of having the water system break down while I'm showering.

As soon as I rinse last soap suds off, I shut off the shower and water and step out of the tub slowly and carefully so I don't slip and bang my head. I wrap my long neon yellow and red hair up into a towel and squeeze as much water out of it as I can. When I finish the drying, I take my comb and comb out all the tangles one by one until there's none left, and then braid it to keep it out of my way. By the time I'm done with this, my body is dry and the sun is almost fully up. The others will wake up soon, so I quickly slip into my clean clothes, grab my stuff and head back to my room for my boots. Now the others can fight over the bathroom while I go eat breakfast.

I grab my black combat boots from off the floor where I tossed them last night and a pair of clean socks from my backpack, shove my feet into the socks and slip the boots on one at a time. I hear the first sounds of the beginning morning rush as I lace up my boots, footsteps running down the hall, frantic to get to the bathroom "first". I grab my backpack and walk down the stairs, avoiding some of the broken steps along the way, and into what served as our kitchen and family room. The place was a wreck, just like the rest of the house, but we weren't being choosy about where we lived, we got lucky just finding this place.

I find Opal sitting at our makeshift table, staring at the glowing screen of her laptop, a look of worried concentration on her features. "I'll alert the patrols, Shana," Opal replies to the screen, "hopefully it'll buy us some time to evacuate."

"I understand, Opal," Shana Story's voice replies through the laptop's speakers, "send my regards to Rachel and Ira. Shana out."

I give Opal a look even though she's not looking at me, "Okay, what hit the fan?"

Opal jumps slightly at my voice before regaining her composure, "One of Shana's team picked up something while hacking The Initiative's databases, and apparently they're getting pretty close to pinpointing our location."

"How close?" I reply sternly.

"They've narrowed it down to a five mile radius," Opal murmurs, "according to Shana's estimate, they could be on to us some time today, if they aren't already."

"Shit," I hiss and slink over to one of the cupboards to grab some food.

We had escaped from The Initiative some time in early February in the chaos of some kind of collapse of leadership among their higher-ups. Some project of theirs – called _Project: Nefarious_ – had gotten their cover blown to some super secret military group. We had been held captive by The Initiative for around three years, give or take a few months, as a part of _Project: Cyber_, a project to create "super soldiers" that were part human part machine, cyborgs if you will. They replaced parts of our own bodies – like eyes and limbs – with mechanical replacements and then ran various tests to see just how much of various extremes we could endure. When we finally got the chance to escape, we took it. We raided the supply stashes within the base for all the clothes, food and gear we currently have. For safety, we split up into three groups: two groups to simply hide away from The Initiative within the urban sprawl of New York and Chicago and our group to wander like nomads from place to place, avoiding The Initiative by any and all means as a distraction of sorts keeping attention away from the other groups. This new development threatened everything we had worked so hard for.

I grab a bag of beef jerky and a bag yogurt covered raisins and trudge over to where Opal is sitting and plop down next to her. At that moment, Silvia comes dashing through the door, out of breath, covered in bite and claw marks and her shiny silver hair a complete mess, "On patrol, got attacked… hellhounds… death squad…"

"What?" Opal asks, her voiced rising an octave in fear.

Opal just barely managed to pull Silvia from the doorway when Ira comes dashing in, in the same condition as Silvia. "What happened?" I ask, afraid to know the answer.

"We got attacked while on patrol." Ira gasps breathlessly, "Megan and a few squads of hellhounds with helicopter backup. We tried to fight 'em off, but there were too many. We fled, but Megan caught up, grabbed Bethany and hauled her off into the helicopter."

My blood ran cold, Bethany was one of our youngest, she was only eight. Today had been the day Ira had finally decided to allow Bethany to come with her on patrol after a big debate over whether she was too young to go on patrols with us. Now she was in the hands of the death squad, The Initiative's cyborg foot soldiers. They'd drag her straight back to the hell we escaped from in February, straight back to the scientists and the cruelty with no one to protect her.

"No," I murmur softly.

By now the commotion had drawn the others down from waiting for the bathroom. "What happened?" Will asks, frightened.

"Bethany got captured by Megan," Ira replies, still panting and gasping.

The room erupts into chaos as the others start panicking, causing Opal to shout to restore order. "We can't stay here anymore," Opal tells everyone, "grab your stuff, we're evacuating. We can take baths later; right now we need to get out of here before Megan's goons find us here."

The others – Silvia, Ira and myself included – run up the stairs to grab our stuff. All of my clothes, hygiene necessities and emergency food is packed into my backpack with my sleeping bag, which is on my back, so all I have to grab is my mechanic's tools and first aid kit neatly packed within two messenger bags. I scan the sky outside my bedroom window, searching for the helicopter that holds Bethany. And sure enough, on the horizon, flying away from us off into the distance is an attack helicopter. My heart hurts just looking at it, knowing the hell our youngest was being dragged back to. I turn away from the window and pull the blinds shut for the last time.

I dash down hall and into what was Bethany's room. I grab her black messenger bag and the patchwork, yellow plush corgi Ellie had made for her, that were lying on her black sleeping bag. I stuff the toy into her messenger bag after rolling up her sleeping bag, throw the bag over my shoulder and race back down the stairs.

The others are already loading their stuff into the back of Ira's truck – that we had "acquired" from The Initiative during our escape – the youngest kids riding inside the truck, while the rest of us ride in the back, protected by a camper shell with windows from rain and prying eyes. Opal will obviously ride in the front to be able to switch places with Ira if we get pulled over by cops, because she's the only one with a driver's license and is legally old enough to be on her own.

I quietly slip my stuff and Bethany's stuff into the back and climb in the back. The others pile in after me, eager to leave this place. Once everybody's situated, Ira starts up the truck and drives off down the winding, disused road we took to get here, before finally getting onto the "main" dirt road. It'll be a couple of hours until we reach civilization. Ellie, Celene and Ari huddle close to my left side, shaking like leaves. "Rachel, what are we gonna do now?" the triplet girls ask me in unison.

"We're gonna get Bethany back," I tell them.

"Yeah," Silvia replies, steely determination in her voice, "even if it's the last thing we do."

* * *

><p>Megan's watching me, waiting for me to make a move. She may lead The Initiative's death squad, but she's not dumb. She knows what will happen to her if I escape. But I'll find a way to get out, because I am <strong>not<strong> going back to that lab.

My name is Bethany and today has to be one of the wost days of my life.

I check my pockets, there's gotta be something that I can use. I come up with nothing but a slightly stale gummy worm that I pop in my mouth and chew. The helicopter's side door is still open, if I can break out of the dog crate I'm stuck in, I can jump out. The fall will probably kill me, but at least I won't go back to that hell alive.

I stealthily begin to open the crate door when an explosion rocks the helicopter, sending my crate sliding out the open side door and into the air. The impact breaks my crate open and knocks the wind out of me, but I recover and look around. I've crash landed in a military base of some kind. The helicopter is a burning wreck on the tarmac and Megan's searching for me.

I take a running head start from Megan, who has obviously noticed me. "Come here you worthless maggot!" she roars furiously.

I don't answer her and continue running. By now there are soldiers with guns shooting at us. This is bad, I'm either gonna get shot to bits by soldiers with guns or get killed in some hideous way by Megan. I dash past a soldier, hoping that I can find a way out of this place, away from Megan and these men with guns and out to freedom.

That hope dies as I hear the sound of shifting metal and jet engines. Megan's engaged her flight mode. I'm screwed if I don't get some kind of help and fast. Razor sharp talons latch onto me and I'm lifted off the ground. I grab some wires leading to one of Megan's engines and rip them out with all my strength. Megan roars in pain and rage as the wires are torn from her causing her engines to shut off, sending both of us crashing to the ground. I dash away from her only to find myself cornered against an electric fence. "You'll pay for that," Megan growls stalking towards me, her blood red eyes glowing faintly with rage.

I'm trapped. I try to cry for help, but I'm cut off as Megan grabs me by the throat and throws me into the electric fence. The pain lasts only a few moments before I fall back to the ground. "No one's coming for you," Megan purrs tauntingly, "no one at all."

"Back away from the girl," a voice says in a stern, commanding voice.

I divert my attention from Megan to see the soldiers standing not that far from us, guns raised. "Help," I beg desperately at the source of the voice, a man with the tanned skin of one who spends time outside, short brown hair, stern brown eyes, and the last name of Lennox stitched above a pocket on his uniform, "please."

Megan growls and pushes the tips her razor sharp metal claws against my throat, until something gives and the pain registers, worse than being thrown into the fence, worse than anything I've felt. I try to scream, but only a choked sound comes out. I roll off my back the moment Megan yanks her claws from my throat and onto my hands and knees, desperately trying to breathe. The sound of gunfire and the roar of a helicopter vaguely reaches my ears, as well as the shouts of soldiers. Someone runs to my side, saying something, but I can't make out what they're saying as my arms and legs give out and blackness devours my world from the outside in.


	2. Chapter 2

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

****Warning(s):** **Language.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

* * *

><p>"How's the kid?" Major William Lennox asks.<p>

"She's stable," Ratchet replies.

"Good," the obviously worried Major sighs, "Galloway's already informed General Morshower of what happened. We need to come up with an explanation and fast."

"The others are still searching the remains of the helicopter," Ratchet replies, "so far there have been no leads as to the origin of the vehicle. The only thing we truly know about it is that it isn't one of ours."

"Damn straight," Galloway shouts as he storms into the room angrily, "we managed to get a lead on the helicopter. The uniform of the deceased pilot matches those we seized during the raid on The Initiative."

"What?" Major Lennox asks, "I thought we took care of them."

"Well apparently we didn't get them all," Galloway mutters.

"Great," Lennox sighs, "We had a bad enough time with them the last time we dealt with them. Now that they've probably wised up to how much of a threat we pose to them, they'll be even harder to track down."

"But what would they want with a child?" Ratchet asks.

"That's what frightens me," Galloway replies, "I read the reports from the soldiers and saw the security camera footage, no normal person would do something like that. Whatever those bastards did, it turned that other girl into a monster."

"The other girl had what looked suspiciously similar in design and structure to cybertronian components," Ratchet replies.

"That's bad, right?" Galloway asks.

"Indeed," Ratchet answers, "it means they have some kind of access to cybertronian technology, possibly even cybertronian weapons."

"And none of the people captured during the last raid on The Initiative have been very cooperative about discussing the full reach and depth of the organization," Lennox adds, "meaning that The Initiative could have access to anything and we wouldn't even know it."

"We'll have to start asking questions again then," Galloway remarks, "I'll have a team go do that while we figure out just how to explain to General Morshower what happened."

* * *

><p>"I should have known," Ira mutters to herself as she drives through the woods.<p>

"Ira," Opal replies, "There was no way of knowing what was coming. Things like that happen, that's why we had the patrols in the first place. If we hadn't had any patrols, we might have all been caught off guard and captured. If we'd all been captured, we'd be of no use to anyone, but with only Bethany captured, we have the chance to rescue her. I know it sounds really bad to say this, but it's the truth."

"We still should have known The Initiative was up to something," Ira retorts, "there had to be some kind of warning."

"There was," Opal replies, "Shana sounded the alarm, but the warning came too late to save Bethany."

"Damn," Ira mutters before changing the subject, "So what's our plan for gettin' Bethany out? We gotta have _something_."

"As far as I see it," Opal replies, eager to discuss her plan with another person, "we'll stop at the gas station and grocery store over in Ashland to get food and gas before the long haul to Tranquility, California. From there we'll stock up on food, supplies and wing it all the way to Chicago. There we'll meet up with Shana, who will hopefully have the info and resources we need to rescue Bethany."

"How long's this gonna take?" Ira asks warily, "The longer we take, the longer those monsters have Bethany in their possession."

"Considering how much money we have," Opal replies worriedly, "a while."

Ira shifts in her seat irritably, "Why?"

"I've counted the money we have," Opal remarks, "and unfortunately with the price of gas right now, we don't have enough money to make it to Chicago even if we went bare bones on food costs."

"Well can't Shana wire us some money from Chicago?" Ira asks, "After all she has all that surplus from street racing."

"She could," Opal replies, "but both The Initiative and the government monitor official channels. If Shana sends a lot of money our way, one or both groups are bound to notice, blowing our cover and Shana's. Her group could lose their entire livelihood if the government finds out about Shana's illegal street racing. Any money she gives us will have to be given in person, to do that, we have to get to Chicago."

"So how are we gonna get any money then?" Ira grouses, "it's not like it grows on trees."

Opal facepalms, "Well have to get jobs."

"Well that's just great," Ira mutters sarcastically.

"As far as I see it, Rachel can work as a mechanic and you and I can get some kind of low level retail or manual job," Opal replies, impervious to Ira's sarcasm.

"You sure it's a good idea to leave the others alone mere days after an attack?" Ira asks worriedly.

"It's not like we really have a choice," Opal replies, "we need all the money we can get."

"I still don't thinks it's a good idea to leave them on their own so soon," Ira snaps, "even if there is no other choice."

"We'll have to talk to Rachel about it once we reach Tranquility," Opal replies.

"Very well," Ira mutters.

* * *

><p>"Hey Rachel," Silvia's voice says to me as someone gently shakes me awake, "we're in town."<p>

I open my eyes slowly to see Silvia looking down at me, her distinctive silver hair tucked away in a baseball cap. "Opal says we're gonna stop to stock up on food and gas," Silvia whispers once she knows I'm fully awake, "She said we could get out and stretch our legs before a long haul to the next town."

I nod to convey to Silvia that I understand, "Silvia, are any of my parts showing?"

Sometimes my mechanical parts would change back into their "normal" forms while I slept – a phenomenon that wasn't uncommon among us – making it pretty much standard for us to check each other before going out in public. "Nope," Silvia replies, "I would've warned you if you were."

"Thanks," I reply, putting a light gray hoodie on and tucking my neon yellow and red braid into it, "So, who's standing guard?"

"That would be me," Silvia answers, "Ira and Opal are inside the gas station convenience store buying maps as well as a few of the others looking at some of the small trinkets inside."

"With the injuries you sustained in the recent attack?" I hiss, "What are those two idiots thinking?"

"Don't worry," Silvia replies nervously, "I'm not gonna be out walking around a lot, just sitting in here to watch from the truck."

"Very well," I sigh irritably, "but nothing more, those injuries are still fresh."

I pull my hood up as I feel a raindrop land on my head as I quietly slip out of the back of the truck and head for the convenience store, "I'll join you on guard after I check out the inside of the store."

"Sure thing," Silvia replies.

As soon as I enter the store, I look around and sure enough, Opal and Ira are arguing over what maps to buy while Ari, Celene and Jake are looking at various souvenirs and other stuff for sale. I still have ten dollars left over from my share of money taken during our escape, so I go over to a small jewelry display case near the cash register. There inside is a necklace with a strange metal shard with markings I have never seen before on one side. There's something strangely familiar about the thing, even though I have never seen it in my life. The guy at the cash register notices my interest and walks over to the display case, "Is there any specific piece you're interested in?"

"That necklace with the strange markings," I reply, pointing to it with my finger.

"Ah that one," the man replies a tone of familiarity in his voice, "strange things have been happening ever since that thing was brought here. Frankly, I think it's haunted."

"Whoa," I murmur, pretending to be curious about the story, "so is it for sale?"

"Yeah," the man answers, "the manager wants that thing gone. He even started reducing the price on the thing after each freaky thing that happened. It started out being thirty dollars, but now the price is down to ten. You still want to buy it even with the weird stuff that happens?"

"Yeah," I reply confidently.

There's no such thing as ghosts or haunted things, they're just superstitious stories told to scare people or add mystery to an object. The necklace was probably ten dollars to begin with, but didn't sell well. So the cashier made up the stroy to make the necklace more mysterious and exotic.

"I'll ring the price up on the register, but give it to you over here," the man replies, "the darn thing messes with the machines."

"Okay," I answer, handing my ten dollar bill and sales tax money to the man while he hands me the necklace, a strange static-like shock zapping me as it lands into my hand.

"Good luck with that thing," the man remarks as he handed me my receipt.

I nod happily and walk out of the store and back toward the truck. Once I get far enough away from the store that no one could see me but far enough away from the truck that Silvia won't notice me, I turn my glare toward the necklace in my hand, "Look, I don't believe that you're haunted, but you will not cause trouble for us. We got our own problems to deal with and we don't need any more. You cause trouble one time and I'll throw you out the window."

An eerie tingle sweeps across every part of me as I carefully put the necklace around my neck, tucking it under my hoodie. Whatever this metal shard is, it's got a substantial weight to it but not so substantial it's a problem. It's just heavy enough to register as a presence on my person, but not heavy enough to be a problem. I turn my head in the direction of the truck and walk over to Silvia to join her on guard duty.

* * *

><p>The AllSpark knew many things. It knew of the past, present and future of it's children and adopted children. It had seen the suffering inflicted by the war, by Sector Seven, by The Initiative and saw clearly the disaster waiting to unfold itself upon the innocents of Earth. But there was nothing it could do, there was no one who could act on its behalf. Primus himself was still badly weakened by the war, his knights scattered about the multiverse, dealing with far greater problems. The AllSpark was on its own.<p>

Then she came.

_"Look I don't care if you're haunted or not, you will not cause trouble for us. We got our own problems to deal with, we don't need any more. You cause trouble one time and I'll throw you out the window. Got that?"_

The AllSpark knew who said that, a young half-femme now called Rachel. The AllSpark had "seen" her before, trapped by The Initiative. She was loyal and smart, willing to help others when they needed it. She wasn't exactly a Prime, but she'd do.

Now was the perfect chance to stop what was coming, and it knew just what to do.

* * *

><p>"Megan," the voice over the highly encrypted line hisses angrily, "do you even realize what your failure has done?"<p>

"How was I toknow we'd pass over restricted airspace," Megan growls in reply, "I did what I could considering the situation."

"By ripping the girl's throat out?" the voice almost yells, "Not only have you potentially blown our cover to a virtually untouchable military unit that our organization _barely_ survived hard contact with only a few months ago, but have given the other runaways perfect reason to take vengeance against us."

"As I said," Megan replies indignantly, "the situation was less than ideal."

"What you've done could be the end of us all!" the voice roars, "With Galloway actively aiding N.E.S.T and his obvious hatred of us, we're in a dangerous position. Right now it is critical that we regroup and recover from recent events; that is our first and foremost priority. I can try and do damage control with the rest of the board, but I can only defend you from them for so long. Your actions have put us all in jeopardy, one more blunder like this and I may not be able to keep them from scrapping Project: Cyber and decommissioning your squad."

Megan growls at the thought, "Understood Initiative One."

"Very good then," Initiative One replies, "Initiative One out."

The line went dead and Megan hangs up, growling with rage. "Blake," Megan calls out to the pilot of her helicopter, "fly back to base."

"Yes Megan," Blake answers from the cockpit.

"Good," Megan replies, before turning to the red eyed boy and bird beside her, "Steven, as you've heard, we are in a bad position. Between the board's threats, those runaway's potential for vengeance and N.E.S.T simply existing we'll need all the information we can get, on all of them."

"Wait," Steven asks worriedly, "you want us to spy on _the board_?"

"You heard Initiative One," Megan growls, "she said that she may not be able to keep them from scrapping the project and decommissioning us, it suggests that they have already been discussing this before. I need to have every asset available to me if something happens and I need to take matters into my own hands. For far too long they've run roughshod over us. I need leverage over them to keep them in line if they start getting uppity. I will not allow those pompous fools to dictate what we do and how we do it."

Steven nods, "As far as I know, they have no knowledge of my pet's existence. They'll never know they're being spied on."

"Good," Megan purrs, "try and send your cat to follow those runaways, they must never know about what I did."

"Affirmative," Steven replies, "but it may take time to track them down now that they've been alerted to our attentions and have most likely moved out of the area of hard contact."

"Very well then," Megan rumbles, "take the time. We can't afford to lose track of them. Have there been any important events over official channels involving N.E.S.T?"

"The girl survived your attack," Steven remarks, "she's under intensive care, but still alive. They've also managed to identify us by the helicopter pilot's uniform."

"Fuck," Megan hisses angrily, "The board must never find out about this. Ever."

Steven nods tensely, "And the girl?"

"Send one of your other pets to 'take care' of her," Megan replies, "N.E.S.T must never be allowed access to what she knows."


	3. Chapter 3

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Language.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

* * *

><p>I pace the across the floor of the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Tranquility, California where we're setting up camp after days of driving, "Are you certain we don't have enough money to take us all the way to Chicago?"<p>

Opal looks at me guiltily as though its her fault, "I've checked, double checked and triple checked. There's just not enough."

Ira looks at me warily before speaking, "We'll have to earn some more money before we can head out to Chicago."

"And do you have a plan of how to do this?" I ask sternly, "Even a basic plan could be fairly workable."

"I figured you could work as a mechanic," Opal replies, "while Ira and I try to find some kind of retail or manual job."

"What about the others?" I ask curiously.

"They could stay here," Ira mutters, "as much as I dislike the idea."

"Are you absolutely certain Silvia and Jori can handle the leadership responsibilities?" I worriedly reply, "You know how much of a handful the younger kids can be. And we're not even talking about the potential for another Initiative attack."

"They're almost our age, I'm pretty sure they can handle themselves," Ira replies confidently, "they'll be fine."

"Very well," I reply, knowing I wouldn't get anywhere with my arguments, "but just because I'm agreeing, doesn't mean I approve of this!"

"So we're all in agreement about this?" Opal asks.

"Yeah," Ira replies.

"Fine," I mutter.

* * *

><p>"So," Mikaela asks curiously, sitting on one of the chairs in his parent's living room, "how have things been at school?"<p>

Sam shrugs, "Pretty good, all things considered. Thankfully most of the school bought the government's cover story about the whole incident last year. Still doesn't stop Leo from being annoying though. Thank god for summer break."

Mikaela nods in understanding, "I see your parents have done a lot of redecorating and remodeling since..."

"The appliancebot disaster," Sam adds helpfully, "yeah, added a few new rooms to the house, a pool and a hot tub in the backyard. Thankfully mom demanded that I have a bedroom or I'd be sleeping on the couch."

Mikaela laughs at her boyfriend's small joke and focuses her attention on the chihuahua, french bulldog and mastiff currently chasing Wheelie around the backyard for a moment before laughing again as Wheelie accidentally falls into the pool. "Warrior Goddess!" Wheelie calls from the pool, "I need a little help, the slobbering mutt and his little buddies chased me into the pool again!"

Mikaela laughs again, "I'll go get the pool skimmer, just hang tight Wheelie!"

Sam leans back into the new couch his parents had bought, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the windows when a compelling urge he'd thought was long gone returned, sending him running to his bedroom for a piece of paper and a pen. When he had found the required materials he began to write, once he was finally finished, he shook his head as though to clear his head and looked down at the paper before him. There on the paper was a neat line of cyberglyphs forming a sentence of some kind, though what it said was beyond him.

He calmly walks back down the stairs, looking the freshly written sentence, before sitting back down on the couch. He stays there until Mikaela comes back in carrying a soaking wet Wheelie wrapped in a towel. It would have been hilarious had he not been possibly going crazy again. "Mikaela," Sam almost whispers, holding up the paper with the recently written cyberglyphs on it for her to see, "I think we may need to call Optimus."

* * *

><p>What is that noise? It's irritating, repetitive and beeping. I vaguely recognize what it is, some kind of monitor, like the ones in hospitals. But why would I be in a hospital? I take a tenative sniff of the air around me, the reek of antiseptics making my nose wrinkle in disgust. Wait. Antiseptics, hospital equipment, am I back in hell?<p>

I force myself to open my eyes, afraid of what I might see. Light assaults my eyes, too bright for someone who knew darkness for who knows how long. When the brightness finally became somewhat bearable, I sat up and looked around and saw I was in a small "room" created with a pair of bland curtains hanging on a running track attached to the ceiling. This wasn't The Initiative, so what was this place? I reach up to my throat with one of my hands, trying to find whatever it was that was on my neck. The moment my hands touch the gauzy bandages it all comes back to me: the kidnapping, the helicopter, Megan, running, the soldier…

Oh my god, Megan nearly killed me!

Where am I now? Panic begins to gnaw at me at the thought of not knowing if I was safe or in danger. The repetitive beeping grows faster. There's the sound of running feet headed in my direction. They'd be here any second, if I was going to run, it was now or never. I jump out of the bed, ready to run, only to fall to ground with a loud crash of falling things. Crap, there's wires and stuff still attached to me. I struggle with them for a few moments before getting up and dashing out of the curtain walled room.

I catch a glance of black combat boots and sturdy dress shoes before running in the opposite direction. I hear the people behind me calling for me to stop, but I keep on running, desperately seeking a way outside. I finally find an open door leading to the outside and dart through it. I got no further than a few yards before I hear the loud roar of an engine and the sound of shifting metal. A moment later, I'm plucked off the ground by a giant yellow and black robot. This is bad. The Initiative kept a few giant robots in cryostasis, only using them in the direst of situations, our escape had been one of those situations and we barely got out alive.

I manage to squirm between the robot's fingers and out of its grasp. I crawl underneath a nearby tank parked against a wall and stay there, cornered. The people who had been chasing me stop in front of the tank. "Where'd she go?" one man asks.

"She crawled under the tank," a no-nonsense voice replies.

"Why would she do that?" another man asks, obviously confused.

"She woke up only recently," the second voice replies, "she might still think that she is in danger."

I crawl a bit closer to the wall, not wanting any of the men to notice me. The sound of two more footsteps make me squirm uncomfortably. "What's going on here? And why are you all standing around a tank?" a stern, commanding voice asks.

"General Morshower sir," a new voice replies, "the girl Galloway told you about woke up and apparently panicked. She fled and hid under the tank."

A man bends down and peers at me, revealing the uniform of a high level general, confirming that this man was General Morshower. I back up to put more distance between us and eye him warily. "I am not going to claim that I know what you're going through" the man says gently, "because if I did, I would be lying; I will probably never know what it's like to go through what you have. I am not going to ask you to 'just trust me', because it's obvious that you don't. I am not going to treat you like some immature little kid, because I've read the reports, and you're the farthest thing from an immature little kid."

I nod, still wary.

"I'm going to be as straightforward to you as I would be to one of my own men," General Morshower continues, "everyone out here is worried about you. We think that there's some connection between what happened to you and a recent attack on a little known, but highly dangerous organization called The Initiative."

"Hey momma!" a tiny voice interrupts, "Why is daddy an' all those men standn' around a tank?"

"Annabelle," a familiar voice replies, exasperated, "this is important business."

"But daddy," the voice asks, "why's your boss looking under a tank?"

Suddenly a small girl, no older than four peers under the tank at me, "Daddy, why's there a girl under the tank?"

"She's scared," her father remarks.

"Why's she scared?" the girl asks curiously.

"Would you be scared if you woke up in a strange place?" her father asks.

"Yes," the little girl replies.

"Well, that's how this girl feels," her father replies.

Suddenly the girl starts crawling under the tank towards me. "Annabelle!" her father yells, "Get out from under there!"

"Wait," General Morshower replies, "maybe she can do what we can't."

"But what if the other girl reacts badly?" the girl's father asks worriedly.

"That's what we're all here for," the General replies.

I'm so busy watching the adults that I don't notice the little girl crawl up in front of me until she's right up in front of me. "Hi," the little girl says brightly, "I'm Annabelle, who are you?"

"Annabelle," her dad tells her gently, "she can't talk."

"Like 'Bee?" the little girl asks.

"Yes," her dad replies, "like 'Bee."

"Oh," Annabelle murmurs before turning to me and noticing the bandages around my neck, "you have an owie."

I nod noncommittally, wincing slightly at the pain that followed the motion. Annabelle notices almost immediately, "Your owie hurts?"

I nod slowly, hoping the pain would go away.

"Oh no," Annabelle replies worried, "that's not good."

My attention focuses elsewhere as a deafening squawk makes me turn my head. A red eyed metal vulture slithers from behind the back of the tank's left tread. It's an assassin bird, designed to infiltrate buildings and kill people. I've seen one in action before, and they're nothing but bad news.

I put myself in the space between the bird and Annabelle, bracing for the first strike. The bird shifts its wings, revealing a pair of gleaming guns mounted on the sides of its body. Annabelle takes one glimpse at the silver weapons and begins screaming bloody murder. Almost instantly the tank above us vanishes, thrown to one side, exposing all three of us to a huge black robot with a two massive guns mounted on its arms, pointing right at me like a giant, angry Ira.

Well shit.

* * *

><p>Something went wrong. Steven's assassin bird had been discovered. "Can <em>someone<em> tell me how the hell this happened?" Megan roars, angry that yet _another_ plan was going wrong, "I need answers and I need them now!"

"One of N.E.S.T's resident robots got involved," Steven answers, "according to our contact's reports, he's one of the more aggressive and easily angered ones."

"Shit," Megan mutters, "tell your bird to get out. I don't care how he does it, just tell him to do it. This is one we can't win even if we kill the girl - _especially_ if we kill the girl."

"Are you certain?" Steven asks, "We may not get another chance like this again."

"I don't care," Megan hisses, "we can always hunt her down again, but we can never truly replace a valuable assassin bird. Send the order."

Steven stands silent for a moment before speaking, "Yes, Megan."

Megan was fuming, why was everything going wrong at the worst possible times? "Steven, make sure the board does not hear of this," Megan adds, "if they find out we're screwed and call a meeting after this fiasco is over, I'm getting sick of failures that have to be hidden from the board every time we try to make a move and I want this crystal clear to the others. I better not have another failure for a good long while."

With that Megan stalks out of the room leaving a group of terrified minions and somewhat frightened Steven behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Language and Violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

* * *

><p>I shift my attention from the giant robot before me to the vulture in front of me ready to attack. He jumps before I can move, wickedly sharp claws reaching out to claw at me as he flies towards me. I dodge his jump, avoiding the worst his claws but still getting grazed by them. He turns towards me again and tries to smack me with one of his metal wings before leveling his guns at me and opening fire.<p>

I somersault out of his line of fire and shove Annabelle away from the fight. The last thing I need is for her to be hurt or killed because she's in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I dodge as the bird shifts its aim towards me. I have to end this before someone gets caught in the crossfire. I silently will my mechanical parts to change to their true forms, revealing bright yellow armor, metallic silver components and vivid electric blue eyes. A few gasps of surprise go ignored as my right arm transforms into a cannon and I charge toward the assassin bird before me.

The bird's head jerks visibly and begins to fly off, but I'm not about to let him get away so easily. I follow after him, shooting until a shot finally hits a wing sending him crashing to the ground. He recovers quickly and begins shooting at me, but I dodge and begin shooting again. None of my hits land anywhere important. Before I can get another shot off, a giant black armored foot crushes the bird, killing it instantly.

With the assassin bird now dead, I make a dash for the base's exit. I get a few yards before a large metal hand grabs me and picks me up. I struggle desperately before being placed on the tarmac, surrounded by men. Annabelle cautiously walks towards me and ever so carefully wraps her arms around me in a hug. "You were brave," the tiny girl murmurs, "he coulda killed you."

I shrug and just sit there on the tarmac letting Annabelle poke around at me curiously. I sit there with her for a few moments enjoying her company, until the sound of giant footsteps draw my attention towards the giant black robot from before. I stiffen as he comes closer, remembering the massive cannons he had nearly brought to bear on me and the bird he stepped on. Annabelle notices and looks around nervously for any possible threat before her eyes land on the black robot. "Ironhide," the tiny girl scolds, "you're scaring her!"

"Sorry," the black behemoth rumbles, looking sheepish.

I still stare at him, waiting for something bad to happen. "Don't worry," Annabelle chirps, "he's not gonna bite. He's just worried because of the bad bird."

I give her my best "sure-and-the-moon-is-made-of-cheese" face. The black robot - Ironhide, I think - simply picks the both of us up, making me bristle and power up my cannon, earning a dangerous growl from him. I try growling back, but its too painful so I quit and settle on giving him my nastiest glare gaining me a glare and another growl. I hiss at him and intensify my glare. Is he trying to start a fight?

Before either of us can make a move I'm plucked out of Ironhide's hands by a blindingly bright neon yellow hand. The shock of the suddenness of the action leaves me temporarily stunned before I begin thrashing about trying to get loose. I hiss in anger when I fail to escape the grasp of the vibrantly colored hand holding me, but stop flailing as I cacth a glimpse of the blindingly bright yellow robot holding me. Ironhide's anger filled look when he was holding a pair of cannons at me was nothing compared to the absolute _fury_ smoldering in this new mech's eyes. "What have I told you before Ironhide?" the vibrant mech asks in a dangerously calm voice.

"But she started it!" Ironhide retorts.

"What have I told you?" the neon mech replies in that same frighteningly calm voice.

Ironhide must have realized that the only way to come out of this in one piece was to simply go along with it, "Don't give the girl a hard time."

"And what did you do?" the still angry mech asks.

"I antagonized the girl," Ironhide replies, "but she started it!"

"How would you feel if you were in her position?" the vivid yellow mech asks scathingly, "You flipped a tank over, pointed a couple of cannons at her and stepped on something about as big as her, of course she's going to be jumpy and defensive."

By now my initial panic had died down and most of the adrenalin had faded leaving me a clear head to analyze my situation and plan my next move. By now it's obvious I wasn't in The Initiative's clutches, yet all the robots I've seen in this military base possessed an unnerving resemblance to the blank-eyed, zombie-like robots The Initiative controlled. The only major difference I've seen between the two types of robots were that these robots spoke and showed emotion in much the same manner as a normal human or cyborg. These robots didn't have blank, emotionless gazes like The Initiative's robots, their optics glinted with emotion and intelligence, a thing only a cyborg or someone who'd spent a long time with cyborgs would notice.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when the vibrant robot hands me back to Ironhide and suddenly starts changing from a giant neon yellow robot to something else, parts of himself folding and shifting like when Jori makes little birds by folding paper. And as quickly as the change began, it ended, and where a massive yellow robot once stood a neon yellow search and rescue ambulance now rests in its place. The back doors of the ambulance open, allowing Ironhide to carefully place me inside.

The acrid scent of antiseptic hits me like a wall as the sheer _confinement_ of the vehicle begins to dawn on me, sending all rational thoughts out the window. I have to get out of here, now. The back doors slam shut and lock before I can dash out to freedom, trapping me in the sterile, confined space of my nightmares. I try desperately to get the doors to budge, to get out before panic fully sets in, only to be held back by someone. "Stop it," a firm, but gentle voice admonishes.

The fact that it's the robot's voice doesn't register in my mind as panic finally takes over and I manage to thrash my way out of the unknown person's grasp. I don't bother looking at the person, only catching a glimpse of the same sturdy dress shoes I had seen when running after I'd woken up before diving away from the person. The scuffle lasts for ten minutes before the person manages to pin me to the floor of the ambulance giving me a chance to get a good look at my tormentor. A handsome man in his mid-thirties with gentle, electric blue eyes that faintly glowed, brown hair and an exasperated expression stares back at me. I'd been running on adrenalin and fear since I'd woken up and now I realize for the first time in a while I'm exhausted. "It's okay," the man whispers gently in Ratchet's voice as he picks me up off the floor, "no one's going to hurt you. I promise."

I snuggle closer to the man with the vibrant yellow robot's voice and close my eyes as I feel the ambulance start driving. I stay that way until the exhaustion finally claims me and I fall asleep.

* * *

><p>"As far as I see it capturing all of the current runaways is next to impossible," Megan mutters, "there's too many of them to simply attack one group without alerting the others. Our recent attack has proven this, the other groups have been alerted and have gone deeper into hiding. The only thing we really can do right now is lie in wait and see what happens before we make our next move. The board of directors has been discussing scrapping Project: Cyber and <em>decommissioning<em> us. Our recent disastrous missions have done nothing to help this problem, unfortunately. And while I am not afraid to resort to drastic measures if the board goes through with decommissioning us, I would rather not make an enemy of Initiative One just yet."

"We need something to regain the favor of the board," Steven replies, "something that gives the illusion that we're still loyal."

"It's no secret that Project: Cyber is critically short on test subjects," Sasha - Megan's second in command - adds, "we could _procure_ more as a gesture of loyalty."

"That's not a bad idea," Megan replies, "Steven, look into it. I'm not going to give my full approval until I know what we'll be getting ourselves into. We can't afford anything too risky at the moment."

Steven nods, "Affirmative."

* * *

><p>"Sam, holing up in your parent's house like the world's gonna end is not going to help anything," Mikaela mutters to her boyfriend over the phone, "it'll just make your parents think something is up. Until 'Bee comes home from his trip next week there isn't really anything we can do except stay watchful and keep calm."<p>

"Mikaela," Sam replies, "we both know how long it takes for us to get sucked into some kind of disaster."

"Of course," Mikaela replies, "but until there's some new development, there's not really much we can do."

Sam sighs, his girlfriend is right, there isn't anything they can really do until 'Bee gets home next week, "So what should we do?"

"How about we forget all this crap for a bit and go down to that diner across the street from my dad's new garage?" Mikaela replies, "I heard the food there's really great."

It would do him some good to get his mind off what happened, "Sure, why not?"

"Great!" Mikaela exclaims, "I'll pick you up and we'll head over there."

* * *

><p>"Well that went pretty well," Opal remarks.<p>

"I'm just glad that's over," I mutter irritably.

"Cheer up Rachel, we've finally got jobs," Ira adds jovially.

"You two may have," I reply sourly, "but I'm still unemployed."

"It's not your fault you have no people skills," Ira replies almost jokingly.

"I know where you sleep," I reply coldly.

"I was only kidding," Ira replies slightly frightened.

"It's not funny," I growl angrily.

"Sorry Rachel," Ira murmurs.

"Just don't say that again," I reply.

We just walked out of the diner where Opal and Ira had applied for and succeeded in getting jobs as waitresses when I stop in my tracks at the sight of someone I thought I'd never see again. "Mikaela?" I murmur quietly.

The beautiful young woman who'd once been a friend of mine looks over from her boyfriend and over in my direction, a look of recognition dawning on her face before replying, "Alicia?"

"Who else would it be?" I call out happily.

Ira shoots me a questioning look but quietly shrugs and watches as my friend from so long ago darts over and hugs me squealing about how she'd missed me so much. Once she finishes hugging the life out of me I look her over quietly, "You've changed since I last saw you."

Mikaela laughs happily, "Time and high school does that to you."

I can tell in her eyes it's not just that, it's something else. "So, who's your friend here?" I reply.

"His name is Sam," Mikaela replies happily, "he's my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you Sam," I reply confidently, offering my hand to shake his.

"Hi," Sam replies, accepting the handshake.

"So who are your new friends?" Mikaela asks curiously.

"The tall girl with the blue hair is Opal and the girl with black hair is Ira," I reply.

"Nice to meet you," Mikaela replies as she shakes my friend's hands.

"So how have you been?" I asks curiously.

"My dad's out of prison and starting a garage here in town," Mikaela replies, "I'm going to be helping him get the whole thing up and running, but we're gonna need a few more mechanics before we really get started though. How have you been?"

"Pretty decent considering that after our dads got caught that I got stuck with my dad's grandmother who always complained about how my mother 'ruined her precious grandson' and how I was no different," I mutter, "I got tired of putting up with her and the rest of her sycophantic family and ran away. Hopefully she'll never find me until I'm eighteen and far out of her legal grasp."

"I remember your dad always talked about that woman like she was the devil himself," Mikaela replies, "but I never thought she was that bad."

"She's the one who ratted our dads out," I reply bitterly, "she bragged about it whenever she got the chance."

Ira and Opal flinch, they'd both been told of my none too pleasant past. My dad became a car thief not long after my mother died from cancer to pay off the funeral and hospital bills left behind. That's how I'd met Mikaela, her dad Colin was a close friend of my dad and they went on heists together. Neither my dad or her dad could afford babysitters so we'd tag along, learning everything there was to vehicles.

This went on for four years - from the time I was seven and Mikaela was ten to when I was ten and she was thirteen - until my grandmother tipped the police off and gotten us caught. Mikaela helped me get away from the cops at the expense of her own freedom. I never really got over how disrespectfully the cops had treated us, especially Mikaela. After the trial, we were forced to go our separate ways and never heard from each other again.

"What a bitch," Mikaela hisses, "it's a good thing you got out when you could."

"Ain't that the truth," I mutters.

"You know what?" Mikaela replies confidently, "Let's put that worthless bitch behind us and go visit my dad over at his garage across the street and then come back here and celebrate."

"Sure," I reply happily, "just like old times."


	5. Chapter 5

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Language and Some Violence. Just letting you know ahead of time. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

* * *

><p>The world around me is complete and utter chaos. The deafening sounds of battle ring in my ears as I walk across the massive battlefield unharmed by the rockets raining from the skies, the explosions blossoming all around me, the towering mechs falling under the withering gunfire. The cries of dying mechs rising above the cacophony of the war that rages around them. Cries both foreign and all too familiar at the same time. I see a spaceship desperately dodging weapon fire, flying up to outrun a group of heat seeking missiles only to be shot out of the sky. A missile screams overhead and lands on me in a ball of blossoming fire burning the dying metal world black...<p>

The world refocuses in a metal building, filled with wounded and dying mechs. Among the injured walk unhurt mechs of various vibrant colors, occasionally stopping to check on a mech or two. A pair of mechs suddenly burst into the room carrying a horrifically damaged yellow mech yelling something before dashing down the hall to somewhere unknown. The sight of damaged metal and soft cries of pain were both sickening and saddening. Every part of me wants to do something, to help, to not leave these mechs alone.

_"There's nothing you can do,"_ a voice murmurs sadly, _"this is the past. Many of these mechs you see are already dead. The war you saw claimed them all."_

I turn around to see a girl of about my age standing before me. Her long silvery hair was messy and unkempt, her ripped and tattered clothes were a few sizes too large for her scrawny form and her slightly glowing ice blue eyes looked dull and glassy as though she was sick. "Who are you?" I ask slightly startled, "And what happened to you?"

The girl looks at me sadly, _"I am called the AllSpark and unfortunately the form I am currently taking reflects the poor condition of my true form."_

"Why?" I ask.

The world of the wounded and dying fades away to reveal a city - on Earth - engulfed in a battle between red and blue eyed mechs. A young but stunningly familiar teenager is holding a strange silvery cube covered in alien glyphs up towards the chest of an evil looking red eyed mech who was also disturbingly familiar. Suddenly the cube started fragmenting as a powerful blast of energy from it killed the evil mech. "Was that Sam?" I ask, stunned.

_"Yes,"_ the AllSpark murmurs, _"the cube he held was my true form."_

Suddenly the frail girl falls to the floor crying, _"Do you have any idea what it feels like to have to kill one of your own children?"_

I kneel down and wrap my arms around the girl, allowing her to sob against me, "It must have hurt terribly."

I look up at the scene playing out before us, a great mech with blue armor with red flames reaching into the molten remains of the dead mech and pulled out a metal shard with alien glyphs on it: a shard of the AllSpark.

"That shard's all that's left of your true form isn't it?" I ask softly.

_"No,"_ the AllSpark whispers, _"there are other shards. Your pendant is one of them, the others are scattered in different places."_

"Oh," I murmur.

_"Rachel,"_ the AllSpark replies almost desperately, _"I need you to reassemble my true form and help me restore my children's home to its former glory. I can't ask one of my children, they are too busy with their war and would use the fragments of my body for their own destructive purposes. My master, Primus is slowly dying from the damage his body sustained from the war and his other servants - his knights - are off dealing with other disasters. I am asking you because you and your fellow cyborgs are the only ones possibly capable of saving my children from themselves. What you have seen here is but a prelude, already events are in motion that will bring the full horror of the war to this world. We can stop it from happening, but I must warn you, it will not be an easy or wholly pleasant journey."_

This is big, bigger than me, bigger than anyone. But I have to accept. "I'll do it," I murmur.

_"Thank you,"_ the AllSpark replies, relief evident in her voice, _"It's nearly morning, it is time for us to part ways for now. Don't worry, I'll still be here, I'll just be hidden."_

I nod and release the AllSpark's human form from the hug we had stayed in since she collapsed on the ground. Then... darkness.

* * *

><p>I open my eyes to the faint traces of morning light peeking through the blue tarp I've been using for a tent. <em>"Better hurry,"<em> the AllSpark whispers in my mind, _"some of the others are beginning to wake."_

Crap, my shower!

I grab my towels, toiletries and change of clothes and make a mad dash for the makeshift bathroom we had made yesterday, slamming the door behind me and throwing down the lock as I managed to get into the bathroom in time. I strip out of yesterday's clothes, unbraid my hair, turn on the hot water and enter the shower. Thank goodness we took Will's water system with us. As I begin shampooing my hair a tiny question forms in my mind, _"Hey AllSpark?"_

_"Yes?"_ the AllSpark asks.

_"You mentioned someone called Primus,"_ I reply, _"who's he?"_

_"He created both me and the first Primes,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"the Primes were meant to keep him company and help keep his greatest enemy, Unicron at bay. I was created as a source of life for our entire world, kept at peak power levels by the harvesting of stars, a task that required seven Primes and fleets of Seekers to accomplish."_

_"How many Primes were there?"_ I ask as I begin to rinse the shampoo out of my hair.

_"Thirteen in the beginning,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"but over time some have been lost. Some died and well... some went bad."_

_"Went bad?"_ I echo as I reach for my bottle of conditioner.

_"There were only two that ever went bad,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"the first one was the Fallen. It was an unhealthy obsession with destruction and jealousy towards his own brothers that set him on the path of darkness, but a disagreement over a failed star harvesting run was what sent him over the edge.__ He went on a rampage of destruction that left many of his brothers dead and scattered the survivors across the many universes. He now serves as Unicron's herald. The other was Liege Maximo, who was emboldened by his brother's betrayal and plotted to harm his other brothers. He was found out and confronted about his plans, but by then his true nature that we all had been so blind to had revealed itself, he was pure evil. The ensuing battle left many of the original survivors of the Fallen's rampage dead and broke the spirit of many of the survivors. Thankfully he was finally imprisoned for his crimes by Alchemist Prime, who sacrificed his life to do so."_

_"Eugh,"_ I mutter, _"those two sound like really bad people."_

_"They are,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"that's why if we ever run into either one of them - and pray that never happens - we get out of wherever we are and fast."_

I reach for my bar of soap and washcloth, _"Good idea."_

The AllSpark stays silent for the rest of my shower. _"You'll need an ally,"_ the AllSpark remarks as I start braiding my hair.

_"What?"_ I reply, slightly startled by the AllSpark's sudden remark.

_"You need a human ally,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"someone who can help you in your mission and offer advice."_

Instantly I know who I will choose, _"Mikaela. She's the only one I know for certain I can trust."_

_"A wise choice,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"she has close relations with my children. She understands them and trusts them, and they understand and trust her."_

_"How a__m I gonna break this to her? I mean, I can't just flat out tell her I'm a freak of science,"_ I reply nervously, _"I know for a fact she'll freak out if I show her my mechanical parts."_

_"Wait for a time you feel is right," _the AllSpark replies, _"Be honest with her about what you are. I've already started dropping hints, by way of her boyfriend Sam."_

"_Dropping hints?"_ I ask, _"how did you pull off that?"_

_"Sam has a connection to me that he gained during that battle you saw," _the AllSpark replies, _"I can access it and pass messages along. It startles the poor boy terribly, but I'm still trying to work on convincing him it's not really a bad thing."_

_"These hints aren't giving too much away are they?"_ I ask as I finish braiding my hip length yellow and red hair, _"I don't want it to be too obvious to anyone. This whole thing needs to be really subtle, because the others really aren't gonna like that I'm gonna be blowing my cover to some outsider that they know next to nothing about as it is without the possibility that a bunch of people are gonna figure out we're freaks."  
><em>

_"None of you are freaks,"_ the AllSpark replies softly, _"Your kind may not have been born this way, some may not have wanted this, but you're all still my adopted children."_

_"Still,"_ I reply unhappily, _"there are many others who do not share your views on us. The Initiative is still trying to hunt us down and turn us back into science experiments and I'm almost certain that the government would do the same thing to us if they got the chance."_

The AllSpark again stays silent as I slip a gray t-shirt over my head. _"So,"_ I ask to break the silence, _"what's on our agenda today?"_

_"Nothing much today,"_ the AllSpark replies, _"at the moment we need to get used to having each other around."_

Okay, I could handle this. Nothing major, just getting used to being around each other. I inspect myself in the mirror confidently, my hair's braided back, I've got my plain gray t-shirt and black jeans on, now all that's left is to brush my teeth and get my boots on and I'll be ready for today. Thank goodness Mikaela's dad's garage needed another mechanic, or I'd be still without a job and stuck babysitting the others.

I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste when Ira starts banging on the door demanding to know when I'll be done. "I'm brushing my teeth," I shout, "bug off!"

Ira snarls, but seems to accept this and doesn't bother me, allowing me to brush my teeth in peace. Once I'm certain that my breath is not rank and that my teeth are sufficiently clean, I wash my brush off and rinse my mouth out with some water. I check my reflection in the mirror to see if I've forgotten anything, but everything looks fine, so I pick up my stuff, unlock the door and leave. I'm not even fully out of the bathroom when Ira comes crashing through the door, desperate to get a shower before the hot water's all gone or Will water system breaks down again - whichever comes first.

I don't want my just cleaned feet touching the icky warehouse floor, so I transform my legs into their mechanical form and make my way back to my makeshift tent with its blue tarp floor. I slip through the front opening and sit down on my sleeping bag before transforming my legs back into their human form. I dig around in my backpack for my last pair of clean socks for a few moments before giving a cry of triumph as I finally manage to find them. Once they're on my feet I retrieve my boots from the pile of clothes I brought back from the "bathroom" and put them on. It takes a moment to tie the bootlaces tight enough, but I'd rather tie them properly now than have to stop and retie them later in a hellhound attack.

Once I'm finished with my boots, I carefully pack all my clothes and toiletries back into my backpack and roll up my sleeping bag and shove it into my backpack. I quickly sling the backpack onto my back, but leave my "tent" as it is. The tarps are not an absolute survival necessity - unlike my backpack, first aid and tool bag - so they are not a big priority. I reach into my first aid bag and pull out a red metal box with a white cross on the front and a black plastic handle on the top and walk over to where Jori's shoving her sleeping bag back into her backpack, "Jori, I'm going to leave you with the temporary first aid kit for use while you're in charge with Silvia. Put it in your backpack and keep it safe, we can't afford to lose or misuse anything in it, not even the tiniest bandage or scrap of gauze."

She nods, sending her curly blue hair bouncing about as I hand her the metal box carefully. The moment it's in her hands she begins to put it in a pocket of her backpack. Knowing the temporary first aid kit is in good hands, I allow myself to walk off to Silvia's "tent" to find her still sleeping. It's not long before Opal, Ira and I will have to leave for work, so this will not do. We need both temporary leaders up and about before we leave so we can give them their marching orders and set up patrols.

I lift up one side of Silvia's "tent" and carefully nudge her awake. After a few moments of nudging, she finally sleepily mutters something and crawls out of her sleeping bag. "It's almost time for us to go," I remark, "You'd better go talk to Opal before she heads off to the shower. I've already left the temporary first aid kit with Jori, so you don't have to worry about that."

"Okay," Silvia replied sleepily, "anything else?"

"Keep on alert," I answer, "even though it's far too recent for another attack so soon after Bethany's kidnapping, I wouldn't put it past The Initiative to send out feelers to figure out where we've gone. No one except patrols are allowed out of the warehouse and there are to be no loud noises at any time whatsoever, make this clear to each and every one of the other kids and enforce the rules strictly. We can't afford to be discovered by anyone, especially with your still healing injuries from last week's attack, Opal, Ira and myself off at work and the injuries Ari sustained in our escape still causing her pain."

"Will do," Silvia replied.

"Opal will tell you who to contact if shit gets hot," I add, "pray it doesn't, but if it does you'll need to contact one of us because we have the truck."

Silvia nods briskly and walks off to talk to Opal, while I walk back to my tent and grab my two messenger bags. Ira's done with her shower and already is loading her stuff into the truck when I get over there. I open the back door on the passenger side and carefully throw my bags in before clambering into the truck after them. By the time I had buckled myself in, Ira had occupied the passenger seat and Opal was walking over to the truck with her own backpack hanging off one shoulder. Soon Opal is bucked into the drivers seat and starting up the truck, while Ira grouse about not being able to drive. The warehouse is no more than twenty or thirty minutes away from the garage and diner, so I don't really have a lot of time to truly be by myself before I have to step back into my past and become Alicia Blake - the car thief's daughter - once more. Opal and Ira already know to not use my alias - Rachel - around Mikaela, so I don't have to worry about them raising questions that I'm not really ready to answer yet.

The time passes by in a blur of thought and contemplation before Opal's parked the truck in front of the garage - front forward to hide the license plate and make it blend in with the other vehicles parked in front of the garage - oh well, everything comes to an end eventually. I grab my bags, open the door and hop out quickly just as Opal and Ira are doing so. I know for a fact that neither of them are enjoying this, but it has to be done, for Bethany. I walk over to the door of the garage while Opal and Ira get ready to cross the street to get to the diner.

I open the door, walk into the small reception area and down the short hall to what is serving as a break room. On the left wall there are lockers with number plates screwed onto them - they're for us to store our belongings in securely - and seek out the one labeled number seven. There's not many of us, only six mechanics - Mikaela and her dad Colin, a pair of his friends named Rick and Joey, myself and a girl named Megan who I've never met - and Rick's sister Raquel who is the secretary. I open my locker and stow all my bags except for my tool bag. Still carrying the tool bag I walk out of the break room and across the hall from the main area. Mikaela, her dad and Joey are already there, discussing something about the beat up old Buick that Joey is currently underneath. From all the rather... colorful words being used, I'd guess some broken part is stubbornly refusing to come out. I quietly place my tool bag on one of the cleaner tables in the room and make my way over there.

Mikaela is the first to notice my presence, "Hey Alicia, Joey's got a problem with something that's stuck in the undercarriage that's not supposed to be there. Do you think you can pull it out?"

"Depends on what it is," I reply confidently, "I'm not really keen on having a repeat of the dead cat incident."

Mr. Banes bursts out laughing at the mention of that disgusting and unfortunate incident back when I was eight, with Mikaela following suit. Joey crawls out from under the car looking slightly irritable and a little suspicious, "What are you two laughing about?"

I look over to Mr. Banes feigning shock, "You mean you've never told him about the dead cat incident? I thought that was your favorite embarrassing story that you always loved to tell."

Mr. Banes laughs once more, "I'd forgotten all about it until you brought it up."

Joey looks between us slightly confused, "So what was the dead cat incident?"

"Let's just say it involved a stolen car and a dead cat stuck in the undercarriage and leave it at that," I replied.

Mr. Banes turns to look at me, the look on his face and in his eyes tells me he's about to drop some bad news on me, "Speaking of stolen cars, Alicia I need to tell you something. It's about your dad."

This can't be good. "Something happened to him didn't it?" I ask worriedly.

Mr. Banes sighs and looks away, "Unfortunately, yes. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I didn't want to ruin yesterday for you."

"What happened?" I ask, fear edging my voice.

"Your dad was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a prison riot and your dad was killed in the crossfire," Mr. Banes answers, on the verge of tears.

"How close was he to parole?" I murmur.

"It was the day before his hearing," Mr. Banes replies.

It's almost too much, but I can't afford to break down. Not here, not where any wrong move could hurt the last people I have that I can decently call family. My mom's dead and now my dad is too, I can't go back to my dad's family and my mom's family disavowed her years ago. I slowly sit down on the floor of the garage and lean against the Buick's tire and process what has happened. "So close," I whisper softly, "we we're both so close to being safe again. Why?"

"Alicia," Mikaela murmurs comfortingly, "he's safe. His family can't hurt him ever again."

"They can still hurt me," I whisper, "you still had your mom when the shit hit the fan. I had no one but that bitch and her family, the whole legal guardian thing falls on their shoulders now that dad's dead. I'm legally trapped with them. If I get taken back to them, I'm certain no one would ever see me again or find the body."

"Then keep running," a feminine voice replies, "they can't hurt you if they don't have you."

I look over to the source of the voice, a tall somewhat scrawny girl with garnet eyes and hair the color of gunmetal, her outfit is practically the same as mine - gray t-shirt and black jeans - with only a few differences here and there. I can tell from the look in her eyes that she knows more about running from harm than she'd probably ever admit. This must be Megan.

I have to remind myself that I'm dealing with a completely different Megan than the one I know. That the garnet eyes gazing into my own eyes are not those of an enemy. That she's too scrawny to ever hope to be in the death squad. That more likely than not she's a runaway not unlike ourselves. I'm so caught up in this mental exercise that I don't notice the others talking until Megan kneels down and looks me in the eye. "They were close weren't they?" Megan asks.

"Yeah," Mikaela replies, "he was all she had. Her mom died when she was seven."

A gleam of understanding shines in Megan's eyes, "Perhaps it would be a good idea to give her a bit. It's always a lot to take in."

I have to stop looking like a stricken little girl, I've seen and felt worse than this, I need to get a grip. But it feels like a floor I never knew I was standing on has suddenly vanished beneath my feet and I'm falling. "Come on," Megan offers comfortingly, "let's go see if there's still a cookie of two left in that bag Rick brought over yesterday."

I get up off the floor and follow her to the break room and sit down with her at the table in the left center of the room. The bag of cookies Rick brought in yesterday is still sitting on the table with a few cookies still left inside. Megan reaches into the bag and pulls a couple of cookies out, handing one to me and keeping one for herself. We sit in silence for a bit, chewing our cookies. "It never gets easy," Megan sighs, "trust me on this."

I allow myself to softly sob almost uncontrollably for a few moments before I finally manage to control it. "I'd just thought that once he was out, we'd finally be safe," I murmur softly, "And now that he's gone..."

"All the more reason to continue on," Megan replies, "for your dad."

Megan's right, it's time to pick myself up and continue on. For my dad and for Bethany. I can have a meltdown over my dad when I get back to the warehouse, but right now I need to bury myself in work. I've done this before, I can do it again, "You're right. I'll deal with the fallout of this bombshell later, the others are still counting on me to do my job."

Megan smiles happily, "Good call. You're Alicia right?"

"Yeah," I answer, "that's me."

"I'm Megan," Megan replies, offering her hand, "Nice to meet you."

I shake her hand, "Likewise."

* * *

><p>"Nothing's working, I've tried everything possible to convince those Initiative people we captured to talk. The only one we've made any progress on is that that hacker girl Ingrid. All she said was, 'The Initiative runs deeper than you think'. It's like she wants to tell us, but something's holding her back," a voice remarks.<p>

"You think she might be talking about spies?" Lennox's voice adds.

"That's one interpretation," Ratchet's voice replies, "but I'm more inclined to say that she's referring to something more than just spies. We never found any evidence of The Initiative experimenting on human beings at the base we raided, and whatever data we could have gleaned from their data networks was either stolen or destroyed. For all we know, there may be another part of The Initiative that we never knew existed because of that lack of data."

I open my eyes to see Lennox, some balding guy in a suit and General Morshower standing on a really big table with Ratchet, Ironhide and a bunch of other mechs surrounding them. Now is a perfect time to get out of here and find the others. I crawl out of the bed I'm lying in quietly and begin to sneak around to look for a door or opening to crawl through. "Uh Ratchet," Lennox remarks, "the kid's gone."

"What do you mean, she's right-" Ratchet asks as he turns around to find my bed empty, "Frag! Where'd she go?"

Damn, so close.

I dive into a dank corner of the room obscured by spare parts as the people and bots scatter out to search for me. "She was in that bed less than five minutes ago," Ratchet remarks, "she can't have gotten far."

"Hey Ratch', I found her," a silver mech with wheels for feet replies as he peers into my hiding place, "she's hiding in your pile of spare parts."

A giant silver hand starts to reach into my hiding place and almost instantly both my arms and legs have transformed into their mechanical form, with my right hand converting into a cannon. I fire a weak warning shot at the offending hand, not doing much harm, just scoring over the silver paint. The hand yanks back with a cry of surprise and I take the chance to dart out of my hiding spot and to a door not too far from me that Lennox had left open while searching for me. "There she goes!" a blue armored mech cries.

A giant hand grabs me mid-run and lifts me up. "Optimus," Ironhide remarks, "I don't think that's such a good idea. Kid's not exactly th' trusting type."

"After what we can only presume she's been through," the owner of the hand - Optimus - replies, "I would expect no less."

I'm handed back to Ratchet who simply puts me back on the bed which has been moved to on top of the big table. The humans who had scattered to search for me are now back up on the table, sitting on a various assortment of chairs that I hadn't really noticed when I'd first looked. "Jeeze kid," Lennox sighed, "What is it with you nearly giving everyone heart attacks?"

I shrug and begin to fiddle with my cannon. In the corner of my eye I can see General Morshower looks slightly uncomfortable, so I quietly transform my cannon back into a hand. I ignore the curious stares of the mechs, ignoring them yet still keeping an eye out for anything that might spell danger. The silver one is complaining about getting grazed by my cannon shot and it's getting annoying so I stealthily pick up a human sized wrench that was left on the table not far from my bed and quickly lob it at the mech's head like I've seen Rachel do to Ira or Silvia when they'd foolishly roused her ire.

The wrench flies true and strikes him on the forehead and the mech gives a startled yelp from the shock of it. He growls a series of mechanical clicks, snarls and growls that I'm pretty certain are bad words. When I'm certain he's looking at me I flip him off like Ira does when someone cuts her off in traffic. "Pit damn it," the mech hisses, "the little glitch left a dent."

I pick up another wrench and throw it. The wrench lands in the same place as the first one, deepening the dent and making it more noticeable. "Pit spawned little glitch!" the mech yells.

"Sideswipe! That's no way to talk around a youngling!" a distinctly female voice cries.

"She started it!" Sidswipe yells as a pink and distinctly femenine bot moves towards the silver mech and promptly smacks him upside the head.

"I don't care who started it! You know better than to use such language around one as young as her," the pink bot replies angrily, "or have you learned nothing from the time you used those words around Annabelle and Ironhide found out?"

Sideswipe winces at what is no doubt a less than pleasant memory, "Don't remind me of that Arcee."

"Then don't repeat your own mistakes," Arcee replies shortly.

The balding guy in the suit clears his throat loudly to gain the attention of the others, "Now that that's over, can we get back to the original topic? All we have to go on is a cryptic hint, a crashed helicopter and a kid who is _way_ more than meets the eye. None of the captured Initiative people are talking and the helicopter's crew is dead, so as far as I see it our only other lead is the kid."

"Are you certain it's a good idea to do anything with her so soon after what happened?" Lennox asks worriedly, "I'm almost certain that there's going to be some kind of psychological damage from the attack last week and whatever else she's been through. If we're not careful, we could wind up hurting her more."

"Then have a psychologist there when we ask the questions! We need those answers, so more people don't wind up like her!" Galloway nearly yells.

He's already too late, many have already suffered worse than me and still are suffering. But with The Initiative gone, maybe we can all finally have something like a normal life. I'll do anything to have a normal life with my friends.

"Galloway," General Morshower replies gently, "we all know your _feelings_ about The Initiative, but we do have to tread carefully. We have no knowing what this girl's been through and until we know for certain we must assume the worst."

"Her distrust of strangers and panic attack inside Ratchet's alt-mode might possibly be the tip of the iceberg. We don't know for sure," Lennox sighs, "and on some level I don't think I want to know the whole story."

I get off the bed and search for any kind of pen, pencil and writing surface that I can find. The others are so busy arguing they don't notice that I've managed to slip out of their sight yet again. I return with a pencil and scrap of paper before they even start to notice that I've left my bed. I quickly write "I want to help you" on the paper and tug on Lennox's arm to get his attention.

Lennox turns around to look at me, "What is it?"

I hand him the note. Lennox glances at it for a moment before handing it back to me, "Are you certain?"

"Yes" I write, "For my friends."


	6. Chapter 6

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** N/A

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

* * *

><p>"So," Silvia asks, "let me get this straight. Your father's dead, killed in the crossfire of a prison riot on the day before his parole hearing."<p>

I nod silently. "That sounds pretty fishy don't you think?" Ira adds.

"Explain," Opal demands.

"Well look at it this way," Ira begins, "The Initiative has moles in just about everything, especially the prison systems. Rachel's father would get custody of her once he was out of prison. But if he lived to get out, he would go to his mother's place to find Rachel was gone. And remember those files Shana found on Rachel? Her grandmother is a high level member of The Initiative. Does any of this ring a bell?"

"So her dad was murdered," Jori adds, "To keep him from finding out the truth."

"Damn," Jake mutters.

"This day just keeps getting better and better," I mutter sarcastically.

"So who's that Megan girl working with you?" Opal asks, obviously hoping to change the subject.

"She's probably around my age," I answer, "maybe a year or two older than me but no more than that. She didn't say it explicitly, but I'm pretty sure that she's a runaway of some kind."

"Anything else?" the triplets ask in unison.

"I don't really know anything more about her," I answer, "she's really quiet and gets startled easily by loud noises."

"What does she look like?" Will asks curiously.

"She's about as tall as Opal," I begin, "with grey, shoulder length hair and dark red eyes."

Everyone stares at me like I've grown an extra head. "Red eyes and grey hair?" Jori squeaks, "Are you certain that she's not part of the death squad?"

"She's way too scrawny to be one of them," I reply, "and we all know that there can only be one true Megan within the death squad, all others would be killed."

"So then what is she?" Jake asks.

"Remember how the scientists would always mention a government group called Sector Seven," Opal answers, "they had a project like Project: Cyber. I wouldn't be surprised if she was an escapee of that project."

"But didn't Sector Seven get shut down or something?" Silvia asks.

"Yeah," Ira adds, "its what made The Initiative bold enough to start up Project: Cyber."

"I would still exercise caution," Opal advises, "there's no way of knowing for certain what her intentions are just yet."

I nod in assent before turning my attention back to the sandwich in my lap and the conversations of the others sitting around the LED lantern on the tarp we laid down for dinner time. "So," Ira begins, "how was your day Silvia?"

* * *

><p>"It's beautiful out tonight," Mikaela murmurs, laying down on the blanket Sam had laid out on the backyard grass, "no clouds and the stars are bright out."<p>

"Yeah," Sam whispers contentedly from beside her, "it's perfect out. I just wish Bee was here to see this."

"Have you heard anything from Bee yet?" Mikaela asks curiously.

"Yeah," Sam replies, "He said he was going to be returning early. Something about a threat N.E.S.T had thought they'd taken care of coming back and Optimus worrying that we'd be made targets."

"What kind of threat?" Mikaela whispers fearfully, "Decepticons?"

"Human," Sam answers, "Apparently the secret of our friend's existence wasn't as secure a secret as anyone thought."

"How did anyone find out?" Mikaela whispers, confused, "Everything about them was classified above top secret when Sector Seven started up and has always been that way ever since. So how did other people outside of Sector Seven and N.E.S.T find out?"

"Cybertronians have run about Earth for longer than anyone can really guess," Sam answers, "and there's still much we don't know about those goings on. For all we know someone else could have been exposed to a 'bot or 'con without Sector Seven or N.E.S.T knowing. Heck, maybe even before Sector Seven for all we know."

"That's a pretty long time," Mikaela murmurs.

"All the more reason to be careful," Sam replies, "a threat that's managed to stay hidden from both Sector Seven **and** N.E.S.T is likely a hard one to track down or destroy."

"Do you think your 'episode' has anything to do with it?" Mikaela asks quietly.

"With my luck?" Sam replies sarcastically, "We'll probably get dragged into a world threatening nightmare again."

* * *

><p>Will finds Ironhide standing outside the hangar, gazing up at the night sky. Without the lights of a city, the sky above is awash in tiny shining lights. It's breathtaking, but there's business to attend to. "Where's Bumblebee?" Will asks Ironhide worriedly, "I haven't seen him in a bit."<p>

"He fears that Sam and Mikaela may become targets because of their involvement with us," Ironhide replies, "Optimus approved his early departure before he left. Bumblebee will arrive at the Witwicky residence by tomorrow."

"Apparently Kaminari and Petr are coming back to join us," Will remarks after a few moments of silence, "they'll be arriving tomorrow."

"Are you going to tell them of the current situation?" Ironhide asks curiously.

"Of course," Will replies, "I'm hoping they'll be able to help us."

"The girl has been very helpful insofar," Ironhide remarks, "is that not enough for now?"

"In some ways yes," Will replies, "but she can't really tell us details outside of her own experiences. For example, she can tell us that there are spies among us, but she can't tell us _who_ these spies are because she's never seen any of them before."

"So, you need more specific data on what you're dealing with," Ironhide surmises, "Perhaps you're not asking the right questions to the source you have."

"What do you mean?" Will asks, confused.

"You're asking questions about spies within our own ranks," Ironhide replies, "something she would nothing about. She's not a soldier, even though she acts like one at times."

"You're right," Will gasps, slapping his face with the palm of his right hand, "We got so caught up in the idea that there's spies among us that we forgot we were dealing with a kid. I feel like such an idiot."

"I'll go with you," Ironhide replies as he begins walking in the direction of the hangar that Will is now running to.

* * *

><p>"This better be good," General Morshower mutters as Lennox comes bursting through the hangar door, "I'm tired, frustrated and in no mood for foolishness."<p>

"Sir," Lennox begins, "I think we've asked the girl the wrong questions."

"What do you mean by the wrong questions?" General Morshower asks as Ironhide walks into the hangar.

"Ironhide," Lennox calls over to the Autobot, "could you tell General Morshower what you told me?"

Ironhide nods, "You've asked the girl about spies among us, something an eight year old knows next to nothing about."

"My god," Morshower groans, slapping his face with the palm of his right hand, "You're right. How did we forget that?"

* * *

><p><em>"Where are we?" <em>I whisper curiously as I gaze at the ruined building around us.

_"This was once my home,"_ The AllSpark replies._  
><em>

_"Why are we here?"_ I ask curiously.

_"Would you rather be having nightmares?"_ The AllSpark retorts.

_"No,"_ I reply, _"but I'd still like to know what we're doing here."_

_"We're discussing a plan of action for tomorrow,"_ The AllSpark answers, _"The situation has changed and you will need to advance your plans for revealing the truth to Mikaela. Your window of time is closing, rapidly."_

_"What changed?"_ I whisper softly.

_"One of my children is coming here,"_ The AllSpark replies, _"to guard his charges, Sam and Mikaela. He knows there may be a threat against their lives made by The Initiative and will not let anyone he considers a stranger go unwatched with them. You need to tell them now before he inadvertently finds out."_

_"Damn,"_ I mutter, _"I'd been hoping for at least a week to piece together a plan."_

_"Unfortunately we do not have the luxury of that kind of time,"_ The AllSpark remarks, _"we need a plan, and we need one tonight!"_

_"I need to keep it hidden from the others,"_ I reply, _"I don't know if I can trust the others to keep the secret a secret under duress. Maybe Mr. Banes, but not the others."_

_"You need to talk to Mikaela and Colin alone,"_ The AllSpark replies, _"emphasize the importance of the need for privacy. Mikaela and Colin both understand that you and your friends are runaways, they'll understand when you say that you need to talk with them in private."_

_"I just hope this works,"_ I whisper nervously, _"This could make or break the relationship I have with Mikaela."_

_"There's nothing more we can do but tell the truth,"_ The AllSpark murmurs softly, _"and pray to Primus that we don't fail."_


	7. Chapter 7

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** N/A

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

* * *

><p><em>"I'm scared,"<em> I murmur.

_"I know,"_ The AllSpark whispers, _"I am too. But we have to deal with it."_

Opal carefully parks Ira's truck in the garage's parking lot, opens the door and jumps out. Ira and I follow suit with Ira joining Opal in crossing the street while I head into the garage. Thankfully Opal and Ira had to come in early, so Raquel isn't at the front desk and Rick, Joey and Megan aren't here yet. Good.

I walk down to the break room to stash my stuff in my locker like yesterday and walk back down the hall to the main area where Colin and Mikaela are talking about something. I walk in quietly, hoping they don't notice me. "Alicia," Mikaela begins, "what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Might as well get it over with. "Mikaela, Mr. Banes," I almost stutter, "there's something I need to tell you. In private."

"Has something happened?" Mikaela murmurs almost frightened.

"Let's just say it's some 'baggage' I've acquired during the time we've been apart," I reply timidly, "It'll take time to explain."

"We're all ears," Mr. Banes replies.

"You may want to sit down for this," I warn them.

A moment later I will my mechanical parts to transform to their natural states. "Oh my god!" Mikaela almost shrieks, "What happened to you?"

"When I ran away from my grandmother, I was kidnapped," I almost whisper, "the kidnappers were part of an organization called The Initiative. They - The Initiative - turned me into this as part of a weapons project."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Mr. Banes murmurs, "We could have done something to help."

"You were in prison and Mikaela was in juvie," I reply softly, "there was nothing you could have done. Just be thankful you weren't included in the hit list like my father and I were."

"Your father's death wasn't an accident?" Mikaela whispers, "How?"

"My grandmother works for The Initiative," I murmur, "she needed to make certain the truth about what happened to me stayed hidden. That would only happen if my father was dead."

"But he was in prison," Colin remarks, "how could she have him killed there?"

"The Initiative has operatives _everywhere_," I answer, "especially in the prison systems. Dad didn't stand a chance."

"Are there more like you?" Mikaela asks almost desperately.

"Yes," I reply, "you met two of them a few days ago at the diner."

"Opal and Ira?" Mikaela asks, almost startled, "They're..."

"Cyborgs," I add, "We call ourselves cyborgs, and yes there are more of us than just Opal and Ira. We're just the ones that look old enough to get jobs. Everyone else is too young."

"How young are we talking about?" Mr. Banes asks worriedly.

"Our youngest is eight," I answer softly, "she was 'recaptured' in an Initiative attack last week. We're trying to get to Chicago to meet up with another group of cyborgs who can give us with the supplies and money we need to stage a rescue mission."

"How long has this been going on?" Mr. Banes whispers, "Or is that something best left unknown?"

"Me and my guys were held captive for around three years," I answer, "since late July of 2007. We escaped in early February of this year. We'd been living in an abandoned cabin a few hundred miles from the border of Oregon and California until the attack last week. We managed to get out in the aftermath and head down here."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Mikaela asks suddenly.

"At this point any help would be much appreciated," I reply, "including keeping silent about this. The Initiative has operatives everywhere. If they find out that I told you guys or that you're helping us, you'll be killed."

"Why tell us if it's so dangerous?" Mr. Banes asks.

"Because time is running out for Bethany - our youngest," I answer, "The longer we wait, the more likely it becomes that she'll get killed. As much as Opal and Ira don't want to admit it, we need people outside of our network that we know we can trust. You two are the only people I would trust with something like this."

"We're in," Mr. Banes offers after a moment's silence, "you're like family to us, and family helps family."

"Thank you," I sigh in relief.

* * *

><p>"Bethany, do you remember anything from your time with The Initiative?" Galloway asks almost curiously.<p>

"Like what?" I write out on the small white board Lennox has given me.

"Were there others like you?" Galloway asks.

"Yes," I write, "Some are good, some are bad."

"Was that other girl from the helicopter one of those others?" Galloway asks softly.

I erase the words I've already written and write, "She's bad. Her name is Megan. She bosses the bad ones."

"Why would Megan take on such a mission when she has people to do the dirty work for her?" Galloway asks confusedly.

"Because," I write, "Initiative One told her to. Initiative One is her boss"

"But the last Initiative One was Carter Newell," Galloway remarks, "he's dead."

"Then someone else took his place," I write, "The Initiative is full of power-hungry people."

"So there's infighting?" Galloway asks.

"Only if Initiative One looks weak," I write, "no one would be dumb enough to try something if they couldn't get what they want."

"Is there any kind of technology that The Initiative has that stood out to you?" Galloway asks, changing the subject.

I erase my board and write, "They keep these giant robots. Like the ones you have, but yours talk and don't have the blank, soulless look The Initiative's robots have."

"What do they look like?" Galloway asks softly.

"They're all different," I write, "But their optics are always red or blue."

"Is there anything else that sticks out?" Galloway asks almost urgently.

"They have these robot dogs," I write, "they can look like normal dogs, but they have huge, sharp teeth and claws and red eyes that glow. they can hurt you if you're not careful."

"Do these robot dogs have a name?" Galloway asks.

"Hellhounds," I write.

Galloway visibly shudders, "Fitting name."

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," Will groans, "Let's go build something."<p>

"No way man!" Jake almost yells, "Knowin' you, you'll blow the roof off the warehouse."

"Yeah," the triplets add in unison, "what Jake said."

"Why does everyone assume everything I ever build will explode?" Will sighs.

"Because that's what always happens," Silvia answers from across the warehouse.

"The water system didn't explode," Will retorted.

"Two words: combusting lemon," Jori replies.

"That was funny," Steven adds.

"Yeah, because nearly burning down the cabin was _so_ funny," Jori remarks sarcastically.

"But did you even see the look on Rachel and Ira's faces?" Silvia asks, laughing at the memory, "It was hilarious."

"There was nothing hilarious about it," Jori mutters.

"Yeah, 'cause you were the one whose hair got singed," Jake remarks.

"Ooh, burn!" Silvia cries, "You're gonna need some aloe vera for that one!"

* * *

><p>"Steven," Megan growls, "have you made any progress on your research?"<p>

"Not much," Steven replies, "after the _Nefarious_ raid we lost a good chunk of our resources and funding. If we were to do any kind of 'procurement operations', we'd have to do it ourselves. That would attract attention from N.E.S.T, attention that would do more damage than benefit to us. At the moment our best course of action would be to lay low and let N.E.S.T think the recent failed missions were isolated incidents that aren't likely to happen again, once we know their guard is down we can begin 'procurement operations'."

"And just how long will it be until they let their guard down?" Megan rumbles impatiently.

"A month or two," Steven answers, "more than enough time for us to gather our resources, train our troops and give the board time to forget about our recent missions."

"Speaking of the board," Megan purrs eagerly, "how fares your monitoring of them?"

"It goes well," Steven replies, "they suspect nothing."

"Have they said anything _worrying_ recently?" Megan asks.

"No, but there is a significant amount of plotting going on behind Initiative One's back," Steven replies, "Initiative Two and Three have an avid interest in claiming Initiative One's place."

"Anything incriminating we can use against them?" Megan asks curiously.

"Plenty," Steven answers, "I can give you copies of the video and audio files if you would like them."

"Get those copies to me as soon as possible," Megan purrs, "and give me regular updates on the situation as they occur."

"Of course," Steven replies.

* * *

><p>"So now what do we do?" Sam asks worriedly.<p>

_"We wait,"_ Bumblebee replies in patched together sound clips, _"The others are busy, they'll be around next week."_

"What do we do while we wait?" Sam asks.

_"There's not much we can do,"_ Bumblebee replies, _"except keep an eye out for trouble."_

"What if I'm going crazy?" Sam whispers.

_"We'll cross that bridge,"_ Bumblebee answers, _"when we get to it."_

What Bumblebee doesn't say however, is that he desperately hopes they never come to that point.


	8. Chapter 8

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s): **Minor language

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

* * *

><p>"I'm not sure that this is such a good idea," Sarah Lennox remarks worriedly, "what if that other girl comes back to finish what she started?"<p>

"That's why Ironhide will be staying with you," General Morshower replies, "to protect all three of you."

"Still," Sarah sighs, "I really don't think this is a good idea even with Ironhide to protect us. We have no idea what we're dealing with, no idea just how badly Bethany has been hurt, no idea just how deep this 'Initiative' runs, no idea how many more like that other girl there are and no idea just how dangerous this could become for any of us. Bethany may know, but we don't."

"I understand your concerns Mrs. Lennox, but we don't really have anyone else who can house the girl on short notice," General Morshower replies, "a military base is no place to keep a child long-term, even one as hardy as Bethany."

"I need time to think this over," Mrs. Lennox mutters, "this isn't going to be an easy decision to make."

"I'll give you as much time as you need to think it over," General Morshower replies.

* * *

><p>"So," I begin, "how was your day?"<p>

"Shitty," Ira mutters, "as usual."

"Same here," Opal adds, "how was yours?"

"Pretty good," I reply, "nothing really happened after that bombshell about my dad yesterday."

"About that," Opal begins, "how have you been holding up?"

"The grief's still there," I answer, "but I really don't have time to dwell on it. Maybe at night or something, but in the day my work keeps me busy enough to forget. I can't afford to dwell on it, or I'll turn into a helpless wreck like I did after my mother died. There's too much riding on my shoulders to simply curl up in a ball and cry for a week."

"Very well," Opal replies softly, "but just remember that you need to face it eventually."

"Maybe on the road to Chicago," I sigh, "sometime when I'm not really going to be needed."

"So," Ira begins, "anyone up for going home to see what kind of mess the others have made while we were gone."

"Hopefully the building still has a roof when we get back," I sigh.

* * *

><p>"Is everyone else gone?" Colin whispers.<p>

"Yeah," Mikaela replies, "even Alicia and her friends."

"Let's get down to business then," Colin begins, "It's obvious that they aren't going to make enough money to get to Chicago on what they're earning in time to pull off a rescue mission."

"So what do you think we should do?" Mikaela asks.

"We have enough money in the bank to get them to Chicago and still have enough to keep the shop running," Colin answers.

"Yeah," Mikaela replies, "it sounds like a good plan, but what is Alicia going to tell her friends?"

"Alicia's a smart girl," Colin answers fondly, "she'll think some plausible story up."

"I'm scared for her," Mikaela whispers after a few moments of silence, "she's going back into the heart of something terrible and there's nothing we can do for her."

"I know," Colin replies gently, "I want to protect her just as much as you do, but sometimes you just have to let go. Alicia's a tough, smart girl; if she can handle her grandmother, she can handle whatever The Initiative can throw at her."

"Let's just hope what we can do for her will be enough," Mikaela sighs dejectedly.

* * *

><p>"Here's the files we've managed to compile on the situation insofar," General Morshower remarks, "As you can see, the files are not complete just yet."<p>

"How has this 'Initiative' managed to stay hidden from sight for so long?" one of the generals sitting at the meeting table asks worriedly, "Surely someone would have detected an organization of this scale at least once."

"The Initiative has been around for about sixty years," General Morshower answers, "That's plenty of time for an organization like The Initiative to get spies into other organizations. I wouldn't be surprised if someone did find out only to be conveniently silenced."

"And where exactly are we getting this information?" another general asks, "I thought the databases seized in the February seventh raid were wiped clean."

"Our source's name is Bethany," General Morshower replies as a picture of the girl is projected on the wall behind him, "She survived the falling out of an Initiative attack helicopter shot down over one of our bases in Southeastern Oregon. At the time she was locked inside a large dog crate that broke on impact with the ground. Bethany and another girl who she would later identify as 'Megan' survived the attack while the helicopter's pilot did not."

Behind the General, the picture changes from the photo of Bethany to the security footage of Megan's attack. "As you can see," General Morshower continues, "they both escaped to continue on a chase that only ended when Megan managed to severely injure her."

The video shifts to another, the security footage of the Bethany's fight with the bird. "As you can see, another attempt was made on her life a week later," General Morshower adds, "thankfully the attempt failed."

"She's so small," Kaminari whispers softly as the General continues with the briefing, "Do any of you even know how old she actually is?"

"She's eight," Major Lennox whispers in reply from the seat beside her, "the youngest of her group is what she told us."

"Eight year olds should be in school learning and playing," Petr murmurs from directly across from them, "not falling out of attack helicopters in dog crates."

"I know," Major Lennox sighs, "That's why we're asking for your help on this."

"Just how many of these 'cyborgs' are there?," another general asks curiously, "And - more importantly - where do their loyalties lie?"

"At this point," General Morshower answers, "we don't have any solid numbers on their population. Bethany only knows of only a few groups of cyborgs. Three that have managed to escape The Initiative and hide from them and one that works for The Initiative."

"Do we know where these escapee groups are?" another general asks.

"Bethany has been firmly silent on the subject," General Morshower replies.

* * *

><p>Annabelle comes bursting into my tiny corner of Ratchet's medbay with a look of joy on her face and the handle of a red wagon in her right hand. "Come look!" she yells happily, "Momma got you new clothes!"<p>

"How?" I write on my whiteboad.

"She went shopping!" Annabelle replies.

I clamber off the bed and walk over to the wagon full of clothes. Inside is a huge jumble of jeans, shirts and dresses. I reach in, pull out a plain yellow dress with black stripes and hold it up to myself to see what I will look like in it. "That's really pretty," Annabelle squeals happily, "Try it on!"

I nod at her and she darts off to hide in a closet while I change into the dress. I change out of my hospital gown and into the dress and after changing I go over and open the door for her to see my dress. "It's so pretty!" Annabelle squeals, "let's go show momma!"

I follow after her down the hall, smiling all the way.


	9. Chapter 9

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s): **N/A

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

* * *

><p>"Alicia," Mikaela begins nervously, "my dad and I were thinking last night about your mission to Chicago. It's obvious that time is of the essence for your mission, so we decided that we'd give you the money needed to make the trip to Chicago. It's not much, but it's the least we can do for you."<p>

I stare at Mikaela in shock, "But won't we be taking from your shop's funds?"

"We have enough to get by," Mikaela replies, "what's important now is rescuing your friend before it's too late."

"Alicia! Mikaela!" Mr. Banes shouts from the main room, "Get over here we have a problem!"

"Coming!" We yell from the break room.

We dash out of the room to see Megan sitting on the floor leaning against a wall covered in cuts and scrapes. "What happened?" I ask almost immediately.

"Megan says a wild animal attacked her while she was walking to work," Mr. Banes replies, "but she won't let anyone near her to help her."

"Let me try," I offer, "I'm pretty sure I know the reason she won't let anyone near."

"Is there anything we can do?" Mikaela asks.

"Call the others and tell them you're gonna be opening late," I reply as I walk over and kneel to look at Megan, "I don't care what excuse you have to make up just do it. No one else must know about this at all. And bring me my red and gray messenger bag that I left in my locker, it's my first aid kit."

"Why can't anyone else know?" Mr. Banes asks as Mikaela goes to retrieve my bag.

"In all likelihood Megan's a cyborg," I answer, "her unnatural eye and hair color and refusal of help when injured are all dead giveaways. The less who know about us the better."

Megan scoots away from me warily, "How did you know? You're not one of _them_ are you?"

"Project Arctic Moon was shut down when Sector Seven disbanded in 2007," I reply as I scoot closer to her.

"How do you know about Sector Seven?" Mikaela asks suspiciously as she hands me my bag.

"I'd ask the same thing of you, considering they were an above top-secret government organization," I remark.

"Don't ask," Mikaela replies nervously, "it's something I can't tell."

_"She had a run-in with them back in 2007,"_ The AllSpark murmurs in my mind.

"The Initiative had spies in Sector Seven," I sigh, "we'd always overhear fragments of conversations about them. Project Arctic Moon was essentially Sector Seven's version of The Initiative's Project Cyber. Project Cyber is the project most cyborgs I know escaped from, mostly because few cyborgs ever escaped Sector Seven when the project was shut down and all the damning evidence was destroyed, including the test subjects."

"Did anyone else get out?" Megan murmurs almost hopefully.

"I wouldn't know," I reply as I inspect Megan's injuries, "I don't have access to the files The Initiative has stolen, but there is a hacker in the Chicago enclave that does. My group's already planning on going there, so if you'd like we could take you up there."

"You'd do that?" Megan asks incredulously, "You barely know me!"

"Everyone deserves to know if a friend you knew lived or died," I reply as I start cleaning Megan's multiple cuts and scrapes, "If they survived, then you can take comfort in the fact that they're still out there and maybe you'll find them. If they died, at least you have the closure of knowing instead of being left to wonder."

"But what about the rest of your group?" Megan murmurs while wincing at the sting of rubbing alcohol, "What will they think?"

"I've already told them a bit about you," I answer, "I'll just have to give them some forewarning. Now what kind of wild animal did all this?"

"A silver-gray bobcat with one red eye," Megan whispers, "it jumped out of the bushes and attacked me."

"Sounds like one of Steven's pets," I hiss as I pull some gauze and bandages out of my first aid kit, "thankfully none of these cuts and scrapes will need anything more than some stitches and a few bandages."

"Who's Steven?" Mikaela asks curiously.

"He's part of a group of cyborg traitors that work for The Initiative," I reply, "they're a dangerous bunch. Hope and pray that they never find out that we're here."

"But if his pet is here, then surely he already knows about Megan," Mr. Banes remarks.

"All the more reason to leave now while we still can," I sigh, "They'll assume Megan's a lone runaway and come to catch her, which may lead to _our_ cover getting blown."

"How long do we have before they come?" Megan asks worriedly.

"If we truly get lucky they won't come at all," I answer, "But if they do, we don't have much time."

"Is there anything we can do to prepare?" Mr. Banes asks curiously.

"Keep an eye out for kids and animals with red eyes and unnatural hair colors and any kind of suspicious happenings," I reply, "Keep quiet, out-of-the-way and _don't get noticed_. The last thing you need is their attention."

* * *

><p>"We've already drawn too much attention with our botched missions as it is," Megan growls angrily, "we can't afford any more attention, even if we did catch your 'easy target'."<p>

"We could send Barrison to go look," Sasha offers nervously, "that way if our 'easy target' turns out to no be so easy there really isn't much we stand to lose if he's discovered."

"Steven," Megan sighs, "do you have a better idea?"

"Send Barrison," Steven answers, "Tranquility is a few day's drive from the site of our first mission. I wouldn't be surprised if the attack on the loner drives a larger target out into the open while they flee."

"You suspect our hunted runaways are somewhere in there?" Sasha remarks, "Surely they've moved on to one of the permanent enclaves by now."

"The permanent enclaves are far from the runaways," Steven replies, "with most of them in the eastern part of the country. They would have to stop and replenish their spent resources, including money."

"They'd have to take jobs where they could find them," Megan adds, "not all that far from where they fled."

"Precisely," Steven answers.

"We should probably wait a week before we do anything," Sasha remarks, "to give the board some time to cool down."

"We'll do both," Megan announces, "Steven's pet shall keep us informed of developments as they happen and if it picks up anything of importance, we shall send Barrison in to deal with it. That way we stay out of sight and have all our bases covered."

* * *

><p>"So how are we going to explain this to your friends?" Mikaela asks curiously, "I mean, what do we say and how are they going to take it?"<p>

"We're going to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," I reply matter-of-factly, "Opal's no fool and neither is Ira, they can tell pretty well when someone's not telling the whole truth or outright lying. Sure they'll be mad at me for telling you and your father about us but they'll be even madder at all of us if they don't get the whole truth from us all at once."

"And just how pissed will they be about Arctic Moon Megan?" Mr. Banes asks worriedly.

"They'll be edgy about Megan," I answer, "mostly because she's got red eyes and the same parts source as evil Megan. Both girl's mechanical parts come from a mech known to Sector Seven as N.B.E One."

Mikaela shudders and I pretend not to notice it, wondering just how bad that "run-in" with Sector Seven was for her.

"I have no doubt that our nice Megan will be met with pretty open distrust until the others can be assured of her trustworthiness," I continue, "It's unfortunate, but that's just how my guys work."

"It's not a pleasant fact of life," Megan sighed, "but it's understandable. When you're in a life-or-death situation you have to make priorities. I don't have to like it, but I'll deal with it."

"And what about the money?" Mikaela adds.

"They'll wanna know if there's a catch," I reply, "they don't like the idea of owing anyone anything. They'll try to repay you anyway if you say there is no catch, so just give them an easy to complete favor for show. Nothing too hard, just don't leave it to their imaginations to think up a repayment for you guys."

"Just tell them to get Megan the info about her friends and rescue Bethany and we'll call it even," Mr. Banes answers thoughtfully.

"Now you're thinking like a cyborg," I laugh happily.


	10. Chapter 10

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s): **Minor language**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

* * *

><p>Opal sighs softly, "I'm not gonna say I like the idea of you two being in the loop. But what's done is done and you're practically one of us now. You'll be targeted just as much as we are if The Initiative finds out - Rachel's probably already warned you about that - but there's no enclaves here on the west coast for you to flee to if things get hairy. That's what's got me worried. You're not cyborgs, you can't fight the shit they'll send at you. We can't take you two with us and we can't always be there to protect you and that's what's got me worried the most."<p>

"We've survived worse," Mikaela murmurs.

"Still," Opal replies sadly, "I fear what that will mean for you two. With The Initiative, nothing's ever simple."

"We'll be fine," Mikaela offers reassuringly, "I promise."

"That's what one of Isabelle's allies said the day before he was murdered by an Initiative hit-man," Ira mutters sadly, "But if you feel that you can handle what's coming in the near future, then there's not much we can say but 'okay, just don't get yourselves killed'."

"Still," Opal adds, "We'd like some way for us to keep in contact with you should things get worse."

"We can go get a prepaid phone for you guys and add our phone numbers to the phone book," Mikaela replies excitedly, "We'll pay the bill and you guys can have an open communication line to us. It won't exactly be the most secure form of communication, but it's better than nothing."

Megan smiles at Mikaela, "You're a genius, you know that?"

Mikaela smiles back at Megan, "Me? A genius? No. I'm just practical."

"Good," Opal sighs mock dramatically, "We need more practical people on the team. I'm getting tired of Silvia's pranks and Will's failed inventions."

"Pranks?" Mikaela asks curiously, "And here I thought you guys were all hard asses."

"Don't tell anyone," Ira whispers mock conspiratorially, "It'd ruin our reputation."

We all crack up at that, laughing as though we were all normal people sharing a normal joke. _"They'll be alright,"_ The AllSpark whispers, _"My children - your older brothers and sisters - will keep them safe."_

I smile, _"I know, it's just hard to not worry about them."_

"I'll get the phone tonight and give it and the money to Rachel tomorrow morning," Mikaela announces after the laughter and joking dies down, "that way you'll be ready to head to Chicago the next day."

"Our employment is temporary," Ira replies, "so that actually works out pretty good for us."

* * *

><p>"Everybody settle down," Opal yells as everybody crowds around her, eager to hear what she has to say, "Now I know this is going to come as a shock to some of you, but we're adding a new person to the team. Her name is Megan, she's an Arctic Moon survivor and I expect you to be on your best behavior for her. She's new and this is her first time being around other cyborgs since her escape."<p>

"I knew it!" Silvia yells before turning to Jori with her hand out, "Now pay up!"

"Alright," Jori grumbles before handing her a bag of candy.

Opal smacks her palm into her face and groans loudly in frustration. "Oh don't worry," Megan murmurs reassuringly in her ear, "My guys used to make bets all the time."

"Still," Opal sighs, "it's not exactly something they should be doing in front of a newcomer."

"As long as they're making dumb bets and pulling even dumber pranks they're okay," Megan murmurs in reply, "I'd be more worried if they'd just suddenly stopped."

Opal laughs softly, "Something tells me you'll fit in just fine."

"Unfortunately we don't have another tent," Ira remarks, interrupting the two, "so you've got two choices at the moment: sharing a tent with someone or sleeping the back of the truck."

Opal groans once more in frustration while Megan just starts laughing at Ira's horrible timing.

* * *

><p>"Here's what we've managed to glean from The Initiative's databases so far," Sonya remarks, "something's got The Initiative's board really, really pissed at Megan and her team."<p>

"The board only gets mad at Megan's team when they botch a mission and blow their cover," Shana remarks curtly, "is there a possibility that Bethany's kidnapping was botched?"

"Considering that it is the only recent mission we've been able to pick up on," Sonya answers, "there is a high possibility."

Shana visibly relaxes a bit, "I want you and your team to look into the mission files and try to find anything that might give us a clue to where Bethany is now."

"Yes Shana!" Sonya barks eagerly before turning back to her laptop.

"Oh and while you're at it," Shana adds, "I want you to look into the stolen Arctic Moon files. Opal's bringing in an Arctic Moon survivor who's been searching for some of her old comrades and I'd like to have something to give her once she gets here."

* * *

><p>"My greatest worry is that the data stolen in the February seventh raid on The Initiative will fall into the wrong hands - namely the Decepticons," Optimus rumbles worriedly, "after all, Soundwave was there. If he were to come across the data pertaining to Project: Cyber, it would have disastrous consequences for the cyborgs still outside of our protection."<p>

"We'd have a third element to an already nasty war," Kaminari remarks, "the poor kids would be forced to pick a side and fight."

"Aren't they already doing that?" General Morshower asks pointedly.

"Precisely why we need to be more actively searching for these kids," Ironhide adds, "they have enough problems on their hands as it is."

"I don't really think there is a feasible way to keep them out of our mess," Major Lennox sighs, "We need to have their backs now while we still hold a small head-start over the Decpticons."

* * *

><p>"We've been sifting through this data for hours," Dylan groans, "and so far we've found almost nothing that would remotely interest Lord Megatron. Sure there's the data from Nefarious, but nothing else has popped up."<p>

Soundwave ignores his human's complaining and continues to search through the data. So far the only thing Lord Megatron would be interested in was the data on Project Nefarious, and Soundwave wasn't about to let Lord Megatron know about that just yet. Not while he was recovering from his last encounter with the Autobots and still somewhat vulnerable. That information could be shared at a later date, once their plans for this world succeeded.

"Data: located," Soundwave finally announces after a few moments of searching, "Human: unneeded. Orders: go rest."

"Yes sir," Dylan mumbles gratefully as he closes his laptop and gets up from the chair he's been sitting in for hours. Soundwave watches the human leave, his systems automatically picking apart the encryption used to secure a section of the stolen data. It takes only minutes to do what would have taken human hackers years to decode. The humans wouldn't take such pains to keep others from seeing the contents of this data if there wasn't something of great importance hidden within.

The data is what the humans would call "a gold mine": blueprints, technical data, personnel files and test subject files. The test subjects of this "Project: Cyber" will make good weapons for the Decepticon cause, given the right incentive. Lord Megatron will be pleased to hear of this.


	11. Chapter 11

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** N/A

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

* * *

><p>Opal pulls the truck into it's parking spot and I step out quickly, eager to see Mikaela one last time. The thought that we may never see each other face-to-face hurts in ways I never thought they could. Bethany needs us, she's in danger and Mikaela and her father are putting themselves on the line to help us save her. Maybe once all this shit dies down we can come back here and hang out again.<p>

I walk into the shop with Megan and head to the break room. Mikaela and her father are already waiting for us, surrounded by duffel and from the looks of it, they've been crying. Mikaela hands me a pair of duffel bags, "We packed some supplies for you guys. There are four bags full of clothes that we had lying around that we don't use anymore and that Sam's parents gave us. The other four bags have food in them. The red one has first aid supplies. The money is packed in the black food bag and the cell phone is packed in with the gray clothes bag."

"You didn't really have to pack all this," I reply bashfully.

"You guys have had a rough time of it. You deserve something nice for a change," Mikaela remarks, "besides, it gets kinda noticeable when you all wear the same clothes every day."

"It's nice of you to do that," Megan replies for me, "it's not often that stuff like this happens."

"That's why we do it," Mr. Banes laughs, smiling, "Now where do you want us to stow these bags?"

"Let's put the clothes in the back of the truck and the food in the backseat floorboard. I'll take the money and cell phone and put them in the glove compartment so Opal will have quick access to them and they'll be in a more secure location," I answer after thinking it over.

Mikaela, her father, Megan and I haul the bags to the truck where Opal and Ira are already waiting for us. "What's all the bags for?" Ira asks curiously.

"Four of these bags are packed with food," I reply, "the other four are packed with old clothes Mikaela and her dad don't use any more, and the red bag's packed with first aid supplies. The phone and money are in the black clothes bag and the gray food bag."

"You don't really need to do this," Opal murmurs shyly.

"Alicia's told us about the bad guys you're be going to be fighting," Mr. Banes replies, "It doesn't take a four-star general to see that you're in for a hell of a time. We just want to give you guys the best chance of success we can."

Ira smiles at Mr. Banes, "The world really needs more people like you guys. Now let's get this all packed up so we can get going."

Opal takes the money and phone while Ira and Megan load the food bags into the back seat and Mikaela and I load the clothes into the back of the truck. "Whose bags are those?" Mikaela asks curiously as we toss the bags into the back.

"Bethany's," I sigh sadly, "We took her stuff with us when we evacuated."

"Oh," Mikaela murmurs thoughtfully.

"We're ready to go," Opal announces, "all that's left is to gather the others and head out."

"Mikaela," I sigh, "I'm gonna say this now because this might be the last time I ever say this to you face-to-face, but thank you. For everything."

Mikaela and her father pull me into a firm hug, "You're welcome."

Mr. Banes smiles at me, "Kid, if your dad was here, he'd be mighty proud of the woman you've become. You and your friends will always have a safe haven here with us if you ever need it."

"That means the world to me Mr. Banes," I whisper gratefully, "thank you."

"I swore to your father that if anything happened to him that I'd take care of you, no matter what," Mr. Banes replies, tears threatening to spill out from his eyes, "you're family, and family protects family. This is the least I can do."

I pull them back into one last hug before heading over to the right backseat door of the truck. "May we see each other again," I announce hopefully.

"May we see each other again," Mikaela and her father repeat in almost unison as I open the door and climb into the truck. After I've shut the door, I allow myself to wallow in my sadness at leaving my friend behind once again. _"Till all are one,"_ The AllSpark murmurs in my mind.

* * *

><p>Mikaela gives a soft sob as she watches the black truck drives away, "I'm scared for her. What if we never see her again? What if she gets killed?"<p>

"Then we remember her as we last saw her," her father whispers reassuringly, "a brave young woman and an amazing friend. But something tells me that she'll be okay, she's a smart cookie like you with a lot of good friends to help keep her safe."

"Yeah," Mikaela sighs, "but she doesn't have an Autobot watching over her."

"She may not have a loyal Bumblebee to protect her," her father replies reassuringly, "but she does have the next best thing: a small army of cyborgs."

"It'll have to do I suppose," Mikaela laughs humorously.

* * *

><p>"Alright guys," Opal announces loudly, "before we go, I'd like to get the issue of new clothes straightened out now so we don't have to deal with it later. Each one of you will take your pick of a shirt and pair of pants. Once everyone has their shirt and pants, we'll have another go around for seconds if there's enough clothes left. Once we've cleared through the basics, we'll do the same with the accessories. Line up at the clothes piles that are labeled with the size you need in order of oldest to youngest. And don't forget to save some clothes and stuff for Bethany!"<p>

The others all cheer and dash to their respective clothes piles laid out on the dinner tarp. Once everyone's lined up, Opal gives the order to begin. Everyone searches through the piles with eagerness, hoping to find something they like. After all, it's been a long time since they've gotten to pick clothes they actually like.

Once everyone has their shirt and pair of pants, Opal lets everyone have another go around for seconds until all that's left are clothes that are saved for Bethany, don't fit or aren't wanted by anyone. The clothes for Bethany are packed into one duffel bag, while the unwanted and not fitting clothes are packed away in another duffel bag. Then come the accessories, which are a miss-mash of jackets, hoodies, coats and hats of various styles and colors. The unwanted stuff left is packed away for later use.

Once people have their stuff packed and loaded, the three youngest kids climb into the back seat of the truck while everyone else except Opal and Ira make themselves comfortable in the back of the truck. Opal makes a mental note to ask Shana if she can get another vehicle for their group, because they obviously need more space. And get Rachel and Ira driver's licenses so one of them can legally drive the new vehicle.

Opal climbs into the driver's seat and starts the truck up as Ira sits down in the passenger seat. "Hang on Bethany," Opal hears Ira murmur, "we're comin' sister, we're comin'."

* * *

><p>"Is it always this cramped back here?" Megan asks painfully.<p>

"Pretty much," the triplets quip in unison.

"Here's a little tip," Jori offers helpfully, "take one of the clothes bags and use it as a cushion for your butt. We're stuck in here for the long haul to Chicago and Opal's probably not gonna stop except for gas and the occasional swapping of drivers so you might want to make yourself comfortable."

"Another thing," Silvia adds, "we removed the back window that used to separate the cab from the bed. That way we could get some of the air conditioning and heating from the cab and be able to communicate with the cab. We'll probably pass food and stuff through that when we have lunch."

"Speaking of lunch," Ira calls out from the cab, "We're gonna ration the food we have tightly. It's gonna take us a week or so to get to Chicago and we don't want to have to spend any more money than we need to."

"Something tells me we're in for a long haul," Megan groans.

"Tell me about it," Silvia replies.


	12. Chapter 12

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Mild language

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

* * *

><p>"Shana, we can't stay here in New York," Isabelle sighs, "it's getting too dangerous for us to stay."<p>

"What do you mean?" Shana asks sternly, "I need to know specifics before I can send anyone to help you guys."

"Sierra witnessed a murder yesterday," Isabelle replies, "A couple of guys killed a man not far from our place and Sierra saw it while walking back to our place from her work. She fled into an alley before they could see her and stayed there until they left. As far as I know, they didn't see her."

"That right there is more than enough reason to call for an evacuation," Shana remarks, "I'm not going to leave you guys in a place where you could possibly be discovered. I've got my hands full dealing with the impending arrival of Opal's enclave. They need supplies and intel to go rescue Bethany _and_ they're bringing in what might be the only Arctic Moon survivor left on Earth."

"An Arctic Moon survivor?" Isabelle gasps, "That's pretty big, where'd they find him?"

"They found _her_ in Tranquility, California," Shana replies, "She's searching for any of her comrades that might have escaped Sector Seven's disbandment purge."

"Have you found anything?" Isabelle asks, "Because I'm pretty suspicious that Sierra's boss was once one of them."

"What's his name?" Shana asks, "If he's ex-S7 I'm pretty sure he'll turn up in our searches."

"His name's Seymour Simmons," Isabelle answers.

"Shit!" Shana almost yells, falling out of her chair, "He was one of S7's nuttier field agents. He was part of the shit that got them shut down in the first place. If anyone would have any dirt on Arctic Moon, that man would be the one."

Shana pulls herself back into her chair, "Hang tight, I'll send some of Opal's team and the survivor over to help you guys when they arrive."

* * *

><p>The moment we pull into the abandoned warehouse Shana and her enclave live in we all start piling out of the back of the truck like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Shana and her guys stare at us like we're crazy. "Freedom," Megan moans, sinking to the floor, "sweet, sweet freedom!"<p>

"I take it you've never gone on a long haul before," Shana remarks to Megan.

"Nope," Megan replies, "and I never wanna do that ever again."

"You probably won't have to for a while," Shana replies, "The New York enclave needs to evacuate. Sierra witnessed a murder not far from their place and they need to get out before the cops start getting nosy. They need to be brought back here, but none of them have the proper licensing to drive their vehicles."

"So you want Opal to go up there and drive them back?" I ask curiously.

"Actually," Shana answers, "I want you, Opal and the new girl to go up there and get them out. Sierra's boss is a former S7 field agent that may have some answers in your search for any other Arctic Moon survivors."

"What's his name?" Megan asks coolly.

"Simmons," Shanna replies, "Seymour Reginald Simmons."

"Oh him," Megan replies slightly relieved, "he's a kinda okay - for a Sector Seven guy. He was one of the most vocal detractors of Arctic Moon. He said it was an abuse of Sector Seven's power and a disaster waiting to happen. He had pull because his grandfather was one of the founders of Sector Seven, but Director Banacheck had higher rank and greenlighted the project anyway."

"Will he recognize you?" Shana asks.

"He helped us in any way he could," Megan replies, "so he saw a lot of me. I'm pretty sure he'll see me for what I am, and for what my friends are. He's really good at picking up on things like that."

"Sounds like the kind of guy we need more of in our ranks," Shana remarks partially joking.

"I'm pretty sure he'd be willing to help us if I asked," Megan offers.

"We'll see," Shana replies, "Your briefing documents and mission supplies are in the white SUV over in the parking area."

"Of course Shana," Opal answers, "We'll be ready to go in fifteen minutes."

"Actually," Shana adds, "You'll be leaving at eight or nine in the morning. If you really haul assets you can probably reach New York in ten to twelve hours."

"Oh thank goodness," Opal sighs in relief.

"I'll need to talk to the new girl before you go though," Shana remarks, "I can't keep calling her 'the new girl'."

"My name's Megan," Megan replies calmly, "Though everyone just calls me Nice Megan to keep me from being mistaken for the other Megan."

"Nice Megan," Shana murmurs, "Simple, descriptive and fits you well."

"Thanks," Megan replies, slightly unsure.

"I hope to see you around more often," Shana replies cheerfully, offering her hand for a handshake.

"Likewise," Megan replies a bit more confidently, firmly shaking Shana's hand.

Once Shana leaves, Megan gives me an odd look, "Is Shana always like that?"

Opal tries to hold back her laughter while I mutter, "Pretty much."

* * *

><p>"Whew," Opal sighs once we're in the SUV, "I'm gonna take a nap in the back before we go."<p>

"We've got two hours to spend," Megan remarks, "we'll look through the stuff Shana gave us while you take your nap."

"Good idea," I reply, "I need to see if I need to take my medical kit and tell Ruth that I'm gonna be gone."

"Who's Ruth?" Megan asks curiously.

"She's this enclave's equivalent of me," I answer, "She'll be caring for our guys as well as her own while I'm gone."

"Okay," Megan murmurs.

"Let's see what Shana's given us," I murmur as I start sifting through the bag that had been left in driver's seat, "Let's see, we've got our briefing paper explaining our job and telling us what to do, a road atlas, a couple hundred dollars in cash, our insurance cards for the car in my name, Ira's name and Opal's name and driver's licenses for me and Ira!"

"Do I even wanna know how many strings Shana pulled to get all this?" Megan asks.

"Don't question it," I reply, "Just roll with it."

"The title says this SUV belongs to Opal, Ira and you," Megan murmurs, "Again, do I even wanna know?"

"Everything needs to be plausibly deniable," I reply, "The less we know about Shana's stuff, the better."

"Good idea," Megan concludes, "So you gonna go tell Ruth about you leaving?"

"Yeah," I reply, "Just give me a moment to sift through all this stuff."

* * *

><p>"Is Ruth always that loud and violent?" Megan asks, slightly disturbed.<p>

"Only when you piss her off," I reply, "We actually caught her in a pretty good mood today. It could have been a lot worse."

"What could be worse than having a broken wrench thrown at you?" Megan asks slightly horrified.

"You don't want to know," I deadpan.

Megan just looks at me, visibly disturbed by what she has just heard.


	13. Chapter 13

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Mild language

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

* * *

><p>"You have not known hell until you've discovered tollways," Opal groans loudly to Isabelle.<p>

"There oughta be a law," Megan grumbles angrily.

"Won't happen," Ira sighs.

"Back to the original topic," I suggest almost irritably, "evacuating this team and that Simmons guy. We're obviously not gonna be able to do anything now because it's dark out and I have no idea when legal curfew is. Last thing we need is to be out past then and get caught."

"That would be the end of us," Ira sighs, "considering how many cops are on The Initiative's payroll."

"Ugh," Megan mutters.

"So what about this Simmons guy?" I ask, eager to get back to the more pressing subject, "How the heck did Sierra get a job with a former S7 agent? The odds of that are just-"

"Fate has been pretty kind to us," Isabelle replies almost sheepishly.

"I'll say," Opal remarks.

"We'll deal with Simmons in the morning," I announce, "I've been stuck in an SUV for twelve hours and I need some sleep so I can function tomorrow like a sane human being."

"Good idea," Megan yawns.

* * *

><p>"So what's the plan?" I ask Isabelle and Sierra the next day.<p>

"I'll take you guys to work with me and explain to my boss why I have to leave," Sierra sighs, "he's not gonna like it, but I told him when he took me on that I might have to leave in a hurry."

"He probably has an idea of why you would be leaving," Megan adds as she walks over to us, "he used his influence within S7 to help us when he could. I'm pretty sure I'd be dead if it wasn't for him."

"He knows?" Sierra murmurs, slightly terrified.

"He probably suspects," Megan replies, "but he's smart enough not to call you out on it, especially when he thinks that someone might overhear."

Sierra and Isabelle visibly deflate with relief as Opal and Ira come to join us, breakfast in hand. "I talked with Isabelle last night while the rest of you were sleeping, and we've come up with a plan," Opal announces once she finishes chewing her bagel, "Rachel and Megan are going to go with Sierra to talk to Simmons while Ira and I will stay behind to coordinate the evacuation. If all goes smoothly, we'll be ready to leave before nightfall and be in Chicago by tomorrow morning."

"Use this to keep in contact with us," Opal remarks as she hands me the cell phone Mikaela gave us before looking over at Sierra, "We set up a system of calling and code words to make sure that you guys are okay. If you don't respond within fifteen minutes, we'll assume something has gone wrong and come to get you. After what happened with Bethany we don't want to take any chances."

Sierra visibly flinches at the mention of what happened to Bethany. Word traveled fast, especially if it was about an Initiative-related disaster. It was a no-brainer that this enclave would have heard about what happened to Bethany. "We'd better go," Sierra murmurs, "Simmons doesn't like it when I'm late."

Shana had provided each of us a messenger bag for the day with a basic first aid kit (custom-made for a cyborg's needs), a change of clothes, some cash and some food. If something went wrong and we were forced to flee apart from the group, at least we wouldn't be left without the important basics. I pick up a bag from the back of our SUV before handing one to Megan, who had yet to assemble a proper bag. "Look," I tell her, voice deadly serious, "this bag is your life if you get separated from the group. Don't lose it, and under no circumstances are you to allow a stranger to touch it or its contents."

Megan nods quietly before placing the bag's strap over her shoulder. This was the first time I would be heading into what was possibly hostile territory with her, Sierra and the AllSpark. _"You're my heads-up,"_ I quietly tell the AllSpark, _"if I miss something, warn me."_

The AllSpark had been silent for most of the trip, I knew she was listening and watching us, but I wasn't really sure why she wasn't talking. Her attention might have been diverted elsewhere while trying to search out where pieces of her body were, or she was trying to conserve as much energy as possible. I didn't know and probably would never know.

"So," Megan begins nervously, "How are we gonna get there?"

"We walk," Sierra replies quietly, "I don't dare take the subway or buses. If something goes bad, you have very few options to get away and the security guys are nuts. Walking is the best way around this place, and it has no cost but time."

Megan nods quietly. We'd all become so accustomed to the open urban sprawl of the west, that the dizzying heights of New York's upward sprawl felt almost cramped in comparison. More than once I caught Megan gawking at the sight of all the skyscrapers. "Megan," I whisper roughly, "stop gawking. We're supposed to blend in, not stand out."

* * *

><p>The moment we walk into the deli I can already tell that this is gonna be interesting. "Sierra!" a black-haired man with gleaming, knowing eyes yells, "What took you?"<p>

"The crowds were thick today," Sierra replies as Megan freezes in recognition.

"And who's the friends?" he asks before freezing as his gaze falls upon Megan.

"Hey," Megan blurts out nervously.

"Kid?" he asks tensely, "You're alive?"

"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't," she replies jovially, "You wouldn't believe how hard it was to bust out of N44E though."

"_That's_ where they moved you guys?!" the man - obviously Simmons - squawks, "I heard some _nasty_ stories about that place."

"Whatever you heard probably was true," Megan sighs, "that place was _hell_."

Simmons visibly flinches before straightening up and walking out from behind the counter to get a better look at Megan. "So what brings you here kid?" he asks curiously, "Because I'm pretty sure it's not my mom's sandwiches."

"Three things," Megan replies firmly, "all of which should not be discussed out here where anyone can listen in on us."

"You want these two in on it?" Simmons asks, glancing at Sierra and me.

"They already are," Megan answers firmly before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "ever heard of The Initiative?"

Simmons's eyes widen in shock, "Alright! Everyone in the meat locker!"

We follow him to the deli's meat locker and allow him to shut the door behind us. Megan gives me a telling, panicked glance. A cold, enclosed space is the stuff of her nightmares. "What you are about to see is really, _really_ top-secret," Simmons remarks as he begins to open a hatch set into the floor, "do not tell anyone about what's in here. That includes the government and - most importantly - _my mother_."

We all exchange looks as he manages to open the hatch, revealing a hidden room. "When Sector Seven shut down," Simmons explains as he gestures for us to climb down a ladder into the room before him, "I managed to steal away its crown jewel. Almost a hundred years of data accumulated from the field operations and experiments done under Sector Seven."

"Do you happen to have anything on Project: Arctic Moon?" Megan asks almost desperately, "I'm trying to find out if anyone else managed to escape."

"I can check," Simmons mutters, "but a lot of that stuff was hidden under Director Only clearance, and for good reason. If what happened during Arctic Moon got out, do you know how pissed people would be? Do you even know how pissed the NBEs would be?"

"NBEs?" Sierra asks curiously, "What are those?"

"Something you should hope you never see," Simmons sighs, "they wreck your life."

Megan gives Sierra a looks that says she'll explain it later, when Simmons isn't around. "You said there were three things you needed," Simmons remarks as he begins digging through a file cabinet, obviously eager to change the subject, "What are the other two things?"

"I'm quitting," Sierra sighs, "I saw something I shouldn't have on my way home and now my guys have to leave before someone finds out about us."

"So soon?" Simmons asks sadly.

Sierra transforms, revealing the digitigrade legs, six-clawed hands, glowing red optics and strangely carved metal of her true form. "Remember when we mentioned The Initiative?" Sierra asks as I too transform.

Simmons's eyes widen at the sight before him, "Yes, but-"

"They got their hands on the Arctic Moon files," I remark, cutting him off, "and recruited former members of the project. We're the escaped result that they're trying to hunt down."

"Those bastards," Simmons hisses.

"We need your help," I continue, "one of my team - an eight year old named Bethany - was recaptured and we need to get her back before something horrible happens to her."

"You can't just go charging in blindly," Simmons mutters irritably, "without any idea where she could be or what you're up against."

"We've got a source named Shana," Sierra remarks almost distractedly as she picks at a small pebble in one of her knee joints, "she's getting us the info, but we need someone on the outside who can help us."

"Me?" Simmons barks bitterly as he continues to shift through papers, "I'm just a washed-up S7 guy that no one takes seriously anymore."

"We're taking you seriously," I reply firmly, "Because we need people who are smart enough to not get killed while helping us. Our normal allies don't last long because they don't know how to handle themselves."

"Well when you put it like that," Simmons laughs, "I'm in."

* * *

><p>"So here's the deal," Simmons remarks through a mouth full of sandwich, "I gotta stay here and make sure my mom doesn't find out about all this. I'll keep in touch when I can, but don't expect much. You've already got my number and the deli's number. Don't use those unless it's an emergency."<p>

"I doubt we'd be calling upon you unless it was an emergency anyway," I reply after swallowing my bite of sandwich, "the less ties between us the better."

"Yeah," Sierra murmurs.

_"Silver Mercedes,"_ the AllSpark hisses in my mind, _"behind you in the left lane of traffic. Don't acknowledge its presence."_

_"What is it?"_ I ask.

_"One of my wayward children,"_ the AllSpark replies almost mournfully, _"It seems they have already learned of your existence."_

"You okay kid?" Simmons asks worriedly, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's nothing," I lie.

But I know it's much more than nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Mild language

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

* * *

><p>Pacing about her new bedroom, Bethany sighs in irritation. The grown ups had decided that she would be better off living in the Lennox house instead of the heavily guarded safety of the military base. Ironhide had come with them to stand guard, but if The Initiative decided to finish what they started, he would be of very little help. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and there would be innocents caught in the crossfire.<p>

If she could, she would run away from here. As far away as she could possibly get to keep Mrs. Lennox and Annabelle out of her mess. She'd already packed a bag of clothes, food and medicine when the adults hadn't been looking. All she needed was an opening to escape, but with Ironhide's constant vigilance, it was almost impossible.

The morning had started with pouring rain, forcing her to stay inside. No patrols around the Lennox property today - they believed she was just going hiking. Without those patrols, she was vulnerable and she knew it. Being vulnerable made her jumpy, almost dangerously so. She'd nearly drawn her cannon when Annabelle slammed a door while getting ready for preschool.

Today was going to be a horrible day.

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe that guy nearly ran us off the road," Ira mutters.<p>

"Tell me about it," I sigh, "we got _really_ close to a wreck that time."

"Too close," Sierra adds.

"What happened?" Shana asks, slightly concerned.

"Some _jerk_ tried to run us off the road on the freeway," Megan grumbles.

"Yikes," Shana murmurs.

"Indeed," I sigh.

"So," Opal begins eagerly, "what's our next move?"

"I've got all the info you need compiled," Shana replies, "but we have a problem. There are too many people in this place to reasonably continue functioning. I've already got twenty guys here as it is, and with Isabelle's team here the numbers have skyrocketed to over thirty. Does anyone know of any safe places we can send them?"

"Tranquility," I reply almost instantly, "I have friends there who can help them out."

"You sure?" Shana asks.

"I'd trust them with my life," I answer.

* * *

><p>"So what did Optimus say?" Mikaela asks curiously.<p>

"Not much," Sam sighs, "It'll take a little bit for him to fully decipher what the writing means."

Before she can reply, her cell phone starts blaring out a song. "_Crap,_" Mikaela thinks, "_that's Alicia._"

She grabs the phone and quickly picks up, "Hello?"

"Hey Mikaela," Alicia's voice replies, "are you somewhere private? It's important."

"Just a moment," she answers tensely as she walks to one of the house's bathrooms and closes the door behind her, "What is it?"

"One of our teams just got evacuated to Chicago and they can't stay," Alicia sighs, "I need to know if you're cool with having them sent your way."

"How many are there?" she asks nervously.

"Fifteen," Alicia answers, "most of them aren't working age, but there's four or five of them that are or can pass as working age."

"Send them over and I'll see what I can do," Mikaela sighs, "Stay safe okay?"

Alicia laughs happily, "Okay."

"Will I see you later?" Mikaela asks almost longingly.

"Maybe once we get Bethany back we'll stop by," the other girl replies, "but no promises."

* * *

><p>I hang up the phone and turn to the others who had been silent while I was on the phone. "She said yes," I announce.<p>

Shana and Isabelle both flop back into their folding chairs in relief. "That's great," Isabelle sighs happily.

"Good to know we've got a place to stay," Sierra remarks cheerfully.

"Hey Opal," Ira begins slightly nervous, "I've been thinking about something. Since we're going on a rescue mission, don't you think we should only take our oldest and most vital people with us? The less people to worry about, the better."

"And who can we afford to cut from the team?" Opal asks.

"We've already got a mechanic," Ira replies, "the New York team doesn't. I say we transfer Jori to them along with Steven and Mark."

"Ari's old wounds are still causing her pain," I add, "slowing down both her and her sisters. That's dangerous."

"They're gonna be pissed you know," Isabelle sighs.

"Well tough," Ira barks irritably, "we're going into a place we barely escaped from alive, we need people that aren't gonna get us all killed."

"So how are we gonna tell them they're getting 'cut' from the team?" Shana asks.

"We're just gonna say that for safety reasons we're gonna have them sit this one out," I reply, "the triplets have a sound medical reason for being sidelined, Steven and Mark have a perfectly logical age reason and Jori's gonna be needed on Isabelle's team for a while."

* * *

><p>"Jori!" I call from across the warehouse, "We need to talk."<p>

A collective "oooh" follows as Jori walks over to me. "Is something wrong?" she asks nervously.

"No," I reply comfortingly, "I've called you over here to tell you something important. You're getting promoted."

"What?" she murmurs, slightly shocked.

"Isabelle's team doesn't have a mechanic," I continue, "and with recent events, we have decided to place you as their mechanic until we can find a new one. It's a huge job, but I feel that I've taught you well enough to handle it."

"I'll do my best," Jori replies bravely.

"Get some rest," I tell her, "Tomorrow you'll be heading back to Tranquility."

"Okay," she murmurs almost sadly.

"You'll be okay," I whisper, "If you need anything, you can always ask Mikaela for help."


	15. Chapter 15

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Mild language, mentions of kidnapping and one suggestive tentacle joke.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

* * *

><p>"Here is all the information we managed to acquire about The Facility," Sonya remarks as she hands Opal a binder full of printouts she'd made, "There have been rumors that Bethany escaped from captivity en-route to The Facility, but so far the only data that would suggest that this rumor is true is her subject file's captivity status is still listed as 'escaped'."<p>

"So there's a possibility that she escaped?" Opal asks firmly, eyes shining with hope.

"There is," Sonya replies, "but we cannot afford to base our actions on an unsubstantiated rumor. Besides, there are others there who need your help just as much as Bethany."

Sonya then turns to Megan, handing her a black paper folder, "This was all we could glean from The Initiative's databases about Arctic Moon. I apologize that there isn't more we could find."

"You've done more than I could have done as it is," Megan whispers as she gently hugs her, "thank you."

Sonya stiffens in surprise at the hug before returning the gesture and enveloping Megan in all her tentacles.

"I've seen enough to know where this is going," Ira blurts out jokingly, sending the whole room into uproarious laughter.

Sonya sputters loudly while Megan simply looks around confused. "Don't worry," I tell Megan as the laughter dies down, "Ira's just cracking a joke with dirty implications."

"Do I wanna know what it means?" Megan asks, "Or is it one of those things that is best left unknown?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Sonya sighs tiredly.

"Well with Ira's _classy_ conclusion to the conversation," Opal remarks loudly, "We'd best be going."

"May we see each other again," Shana calls solemnly from her place at the front of her group.

"May we see each other again," we all repeat in unison before we break up and head to our respective vehicles.

"Alright! I'm taking Nice Meg and Silvia in my car," I bark sternly, "Everyone else on the rescue team rides in Ira's truck. Dump your stuff in the back and we'll be ready to head out."

As the others pack their stuff and the gear Shana had given us, I head over to Jori who already is shaking like a leaf. Perhaps I'd misjudged how ready she was for this kind of position. "You okay?" I ask almost nonchalantly.

"I guess," she replies nervously.

"Look," I tell her firmly, "you're smarter and more capable than you give yourself credit for. You're gonna do just fine with Isabelle okay?"

"Okay," Jori murmurs, slightly more encouraged, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I reply as she hugs me tightly.

I return the hug for a moment before Megan yelling to me that the car's ready forces us to separate, "I gotta go. We'll meet again after we've got Bethany back, alright?"

"Alright," Jori chirps before I head off to my new SUV.

* * *

><p>Bethany paced about her bedroom, anxiously glancing at the now covered window every so often. She'd seen dog tracks in the now hardened dirt while hiking. They were too plentiful and too large to be anything but the marks of a roaming band of hellhounds. They'd been sniffing out the area, no doubt looking for a new victim. Thankfully the rain must have purged her scent from the area as they were passing through or they would have attacked the house by now.<p>

She'd covered her windows with blinds, put on her emergency pack and hunkered down beneath the window level. The less evidence of her presence, the better. When the knock on the door came, she'd dashed downstairs and hidden behind a wall. "... witnesses say that your daughter was grabbed off the playground by a large dog," a man's voice said, "at the moment we've issued an alert to keep an eye out for her, but that's the best we can do until we get any new leads."

Any warmth in her body immediately faded as she realized what had happened. Annabelle had been snatched by a hellhound. Hellhounds didn't snatch kids unless they were acquiring new victims for Project: Cyber. Crap. Crap. Crap.

She dashed back upstairs, pulled open the blinds, threw open the window and climbed onto the roof. She had to go find Annabelle before she was dragged off to The Facility. Once she was there, there would be no way to save her. She climbed down from the roof and headed down the driveway to the road. "And just where are you going?" a gruff voice asked.

Damn it all, in her haste to find Annabelle, she'd completely forgotten about Ironhide. "To find Annabelle," she wrote hastily on her whiteboard, "if we don't find her now, we'll never get her back."

"The police are already looking," he mutters, "there's not much else we can do."

"They won't find her," she wrote back, "The Initiative's too powerful. We have to find her now before they take her away and she becomes another victim like me."

There was a roar of a powerful engine as Ironhide's true form rolls up beside them, "What are we waiting for? Get in."

As they drove down the road, the rumbling sound of a helicopter flying off broke through the silence. The sound was unmistakably not from a civilian craft. Bethany stuck her head out and saw the khaki brown attack helicopter flying off to the northwest. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, they'd mobilized far too late.

"What's wrong kid?" Ironhide asked as she sat back down, eyes still glued to the fading sight of the helicopter.

"We're too late," she wrote, "that helicopter was one of The Initiative's."

* * *

><p>"So what was Ira's joke about anyway?" Megan asks as we head down the interstate.<p>

"Sonya has a habit of accidentally squeezing too tightly if she gives you let a tentacle hug linger for too long," Silvia replies from the back, her mouth full of potato chips, "Ira learned that the hard way."

"Unfortunately Ira's joke has inappropriate connotations," I mutter, my eyes on the road before us.

"Yeah," Silvia chimes in between mouthfuls, "But that's why it's a funny joke. It sounds dirty to outsiders, but the actual meaning to us isn't."

This was gonna be one of _those_ days, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>"Lennox!" Epps yelled, "It's Ironhide! Something's happened!"<p>

Everyone in the room fell silent as Lennox took the call. His face drained of color as he listened to what his friend was saying. "I'm gonna put you on speaker," he replies shakily, "The others need to hear this."

He pressed the speaker phone button and laid the phone down on the conference room desk. "Annabelle was kidnapped," Ironhide growled, "Bethany says that it wasn't a random kidnapping. There were dog tracks on the back of the property that were too big to be an actual dog and the police say she was snatched from the preschool's playground by a huge dog."

"Hellhounds," Galloway hissed, "She mentioned them once, said they could disguise themselves as normal dogs."

"Were any actions taken to search for Annabelle?" General Morshower asked.

"Bethany and I went out," he replied, "but we were too late to do anything. Bethany says the people who took Annabelle are already taking her somewhere she calls 'The Facility'."

"Damn," Galloway cursed, banging his fist on the table.

* * *

><p>When Opal pulls the truck over into an empty rest stop, I follow with the SUV and hop out as Opal does. "What's wrong?" I ask worriedly.<p>

"Shanna just called," Opal mutters, "apparently The Initiative had a bunch of hellhounds snatch some kids from some rural town in Oklahoma. They're already inbound to The Facility."

My blood runs cold at the thought. "So what are we gonna do?" I ask.

"Sonya's already searching through multiple data feeds, trying to track down the current location of The Facility. She's narrowed it down to somewhere in southern Wyoming," Opal answers, "We can't canvass the whole area, so we'll be have to wait in Cheyenne until Sonya can give us an accurate pinpoint on where they are."

"How long will that take?" Megan asks, peeking her head out the window.

"It'll take almost a week for us to get there if we really haul assets," Opal replies, "it'll take Sonya about half that to locate them."

* * *

><p>"Optimus just gave me orders to track down where they took Annabelle," Ironhide sighs, "and as much as I disapprove of the idea, you've been cleared to come with me."<p>

Bethany nods solemnly in his front seat, sighing softly. "You're not gonna like what you find when we get there," she writes sadly.

"I don't doubt it," the large mech rumbles, "but that's war for you."

"We'd better get going," the yellow haired girl writes, "the sooner we get her out the better."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he mutters, "you ready to go?"

"I've been ready since I got here," she replies soundlessly, patting the backpack still on her back, "We go nowhere without an emergency bag and a plan."

"Well then," Ironhide rumbles eagerly, "let's roll out."


	16. Chapter 16

Like all fanfiction writers, I do not own Transformers (I do own my OCs though) and make no money off this what-so-ever.

**Warning(s):** Language

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

* * *

><p>"Hey Rachel," Sylvia asks, "are we there yet?"<p>

"For the thousandth time Sylvia, the answer is no!" I snap loudly, "We are not there yet and will not be for _days_."

"Ugh!" Sylvia moans, "I'm bored!"

"If you want something to do," I growl, patience wearing dangerously thin, "Then review the floor plans for The Facility and try to find some good weaknesses for us to exploit. Ira and Opal are taking turns reviewing this stuff, but a fresh set of eyes might uncover something they overlooked. Megan, same goes for you. Your experience with Sector Seven's facilities might give you an advantage in locating weakness in The Initiative's defenses."

"Okay," Megan murmurs as she begins leafing through our copies of the pilfered floor plans Sonya had given us.

Silvia groans irritably but grabs a packet for herself.

* * *

><p>"You sure you're not hungry?" Ironhide asked for what had to have been the thousandth time this <em>hour<em>.

"I'm sure," Bethany wrote, huffing irritably, "We can't afford to make a bunch of stops simply for food. Not while every minute we waste is a minute longer Annabelle's in danger."

"Still," the elder mech replied, "you're no good to anybody if you burn out from too much stress and not enough fuel."

"I'll be fine for a few more hours," she finally wrote with a sigh, "Let's just put a few more hundred miles behind us before you stop for food."

* * *

><p>To say Sam and Mikaela were tense would be an understatement. Bumblebee had gone rushing off earlier and hadn't come back, only to come back with Jolt and a few members of Lennox's team. "Bumblebee," Sam barked in annoyance, "what the hell is going on?"<p>

"_Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!_" the mech replied with his radio, "_An amber alert has been issued for missing girl Annabelle Lennox._"

"We think Annabelle's kidnapping is connected to a developing threat against N.E.S.T and anyone affiliated with it," added one of the soldiers, "We're here to get you guys to somewhere safe until the threat can be dealt with."

"What kind of threat are we talking about?" Mikaela asked nervously, "I thought the Decepticons had been taken care of."

"It's not the Decepticons," the soldier replied, "At least as far as we know. The threat is human in origin, and that's all we can tell you outside of the base."

Sam's eyes widened in fear, "It's not some rogue ex-you-know-what guys out for revenge?"

"The possibility exists," Jolt replied flatly, "which is why we need you to get to safety now."

"Give us a moment to grab our things," Mikaela blurted out as she hurried back into the house.

* * *

><p>I scramble to grab the ringing phone as the cell phone's ringtone blares throughout the SUV. "I got it!" I yell as I grab the phone and press the green talk button.<p>

On the other end was a distraught Mikaela talking too quickly to really understand. "Calm down Mikaela," I tell her firmly, "Take a deep breath and then tell me what happened."

"One of my friend's kids was kidnapped," Mikaela whispers, "I think it might have been _them_."

"Where was the girl taken?" I ask, voice deadly serious.

"Somewhere in Oklahoma," Mikaela replies.

"Fuck," I mutter, eliciting gasps from the others, "We'll get her back, I promise. No one's getting left behind."

"Thank you," Mikaela murmurs, "I gotta go now."

"Understandable," I reply, "Stay safe."

"You too," my friend answers before hanging up.

"Alright," I announce to Megan and Silvia, "Mikaela just called to tell me that one of her friend's kids might have been taken by The Initiative. This whole mission just got more complicated and success more desperately needed."

* * *

><p>"Dad I need you to make sure Alicia's friends will be taken care of while I'm gone," Mikaela sighed over the phone, "I promised her I would make sure they're okay. Heck, team up with Sam's parents if you have to. Just make sure they stay safe."<p>

"What happened?" the older of the two Banes asked.

"The Initiative kidnapped Annabelle," Mikaela whispered, "we're being evacuated because they think Sam and I are their next targets."

"I'll make sure Alicia's friends are safe," the older man replied, "just stay safe yourself, I don't like the way things are turning out."

"Me neither," Mikaela sighed, "I'm not sure if they've got us all figured out yet or if what happened was just a disastrous coincidence, but either way things are getting bad. Stay safe dad."

"Of course kiddo."

* * *

><p>"So," Ironhide began almost awkwardly, "how's the food?"<p>

Bethany broke into a huge smile between bites of her double cheeseburger to show just how happy she was with her meal. It had been a long time since she'd had a fast food feast like this laid out before her. Once she put down the burger, she wrote, "This is great! The last time I had burgers like this was when Opal treated everyone to burgers after we escaped. Silvia and Ira cried."

"You'd be surprised how much the little things matter when you've lost them for a long time," the old mech sighed, "sometimes you don't even realize you've missed something until you have it again."

Bethany nodded silently before going back to eating her meal. Two double cheeseburgers, two large fries and a large orange flavored juice drink. It was a filling meal, rarely had because of money constraints while on the run. Mechanical systems needed lots of energy to run, boosting her metabolism to almost superhuman levels. It was a problem they all faced, a problem that left them always looking scrawny on the outside and running on glitching systems on the inside because they couldn't acquire enough fuel for their demanding systems.

At least for now the demand was sated.


End file.
